Something Like That
by ethempat
Summary: Victuuri soulmate AU in which your soulmate's first name is written across your wrist. Prompt taken from tumblr.
1. In which they were young

**In Which They Were Young**

…o…

It was a beautiful winter morning.

The snow fell lightly, accumulating on the ground like a soft blanket of fluffiness. Victor couldn't help but step in it at every opportunity he got, now and then causing his mother (whose hand he was closing as they walked from the supermarket back home) to trip next to him. She scolded him lightly, but didn't really mean her words. The little silver-haired three-year-old was much too adorable to be mad at.

When they got home, his dad had prepared two mugs of hot chocolate for them to indulge in. The family spent the rest of the day planted on the shabby old couch watching Christmas movies (despite it only being November 29th). They only stood to get a snack or for Victor to run around the apartment to stretch his legs.

Until eight o'clock p.m.

Victor had just started yawning, and his mom stood, prepared to tuck him into bed, before she saw a bit of writing on his arm. She frowned, thinking that Victor had gotten ahold of one of the permanent markers again. She glanced to her husband, but he was fixated on the TV screen. She sighed, before saying:

"Vitya, didn't I tell you not to touch the Sharpies?"

Two bright blue eyes stared up at her, quite obviously confused. "Yes, Mommy. I haven't touched them, I promise."

"Then what's that on your arm?"

He turned his head slightly, before pushing back his sleeve to look at what his mom was talking about. Although he stared at the black writing in confusion, it took his mom only a few seconds to realize what happened.

"Oh—oh. Oh my."

"What's wrong?" Victor's dad asked, finally looking away from the screen after hearing the distress in his wife's voice. Still in a state of shock, she simply picked up Victor's arm and showed his wrist to him. Written on it, in beautiful cursive, were five letters.

 _Yuuri._

…o…

It wasn't particularly abnormal for a baby to get it's tattoo immediately after it was born, so Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki weren't very concerned when the nurses informed them that their baby had writing on his wrist. Hiroko was rather excited, considering that she herself had Toshiya's name her entire life. However, that excitement dissipated the second she saw the name.

" _That's a boy's name."_

Hiroko glared at her seven-year-old daughter, Mari, before giving the nurse a look. The nurse took the hint and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.

" _Hiroko—"_ Toshiya started.

" _There is nothing we can do about it_ ," she stated sternly, speaking in her native language – Japanese. " _He is our son, and we will love him no matter what gender his soulmate is. But this is Asia. Homophobia is a common trait here. This is not a safe place for Yuuri."_

" _So what can we do?"_ Mari asked, poking her new brother's cheek.

" _What more can we do than hide the name_?" the mother sighed unhappily. Yuuri squirmed in her arms, letting out a little cry.

" _We could move countries_ ," Toshiya suggested. " _A lot of our friends have been moving to the west and—"_

" _Then how would we support ourselves_?"

" _But we must do what's best for Yuuri_."

" _What's best for Yuuri is for him to grow up in a loving, caring, environment without a care about what people think of him. Our business is dependent on Yu-topia. We cannot move."_

" _But—"_

" _Think long-term, Toshiya."_

"… _Alright. But how will we tell him?"_

" _That, my love, is something we will decide in the future."_

…o…

Eleven-year-old Yuuri watched the television screen in awe, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen despite his mother's numerous attempts to call him for dinner. Even when his father attempted to pick him up to carry him away, his eyes remained glued on the figure displayed on the screen.

Victor Nikiforov – Russian figure skating prodigy, and Yuuri's new idol.

It was no surprise to anyone when Yuuri had started figure skating a few years ago – his best friend, Yuko, skated often and encourage Yuuri to take up the sport. He spent most of his afternoons in Ice Castle Hasestsu, skating the day away.

He wasn't particularly good, considering that he was still young, but he showed promise. His dream was to one day skate in a major competition…perhaps even on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov.

Victor…

His father grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him away from the television. As he did, Yuuri's sleeve slowly rose up and revealed the name emblazoned on it in neat, black, cursive.

 _Victor_

…o…

"This is your second consecutive win on the Grand Prix Final! Congrats, Victor. How do you feel?"

Victor smiled good-naturedly at the interviewer, but on the inside all he wanted to do was get back to the hotel and collapse on the bed. He was normally quite happy and more than willing to speak to the press, but he had been wading through them for nearly an hour, and he just wanted to relax before the banquet. It wasn't like Victor was some super-human who could win a gold without even trying. He was exhausted and his muscles were sore after everything.

A tired Victor was an irritable Victor.

"Thank you! I'm very excited and I'd just like to thank all my fans, friends, and family for all their support!" he responded happily, pretending that he wasn't strangling the woman he was talking to in his head.

"You've always dedicated your performances to your family. But isn't there someone more special in your life, at the age of twenty-three? Someone like a soulmate?" the woman asked, raising her eyebrows and giving him a big grin.

Victor's mind threw her into a lava pit. Of course that was what she wanted to talk about. That was all interviewers wanted to talk about anymore. Most people found their soulmates by this time, even if they didn't settle down together. It hadn't taking the skating world too long to realize that Victor always wore long sleeves and never spoke of his soulmate.

"Perhaps in the future," he said, struggling to keep his positive persona up. Yakov was giving him a look from the side, signaling to him that they had to leave. Victor sighed, before the woman spoke up again.

"Aw, c'mon. Every man needs his special lady—"

"Man."

Silence.

"Excuse me?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think I got that straight—"

"I don't think I'm very straight, either, you see."

…o…

 **Alright, I couldn't think of anything else as an anniversary gift. I'm sorry, Isa. I tried. I TRIED.**

 **So, welcome to this new fic that I probably shouldn't be starting because I'm supposed to publish a new one in six days, but I published anyway because I think that the conflict in this story is an incredibly important topic that people really need to acknowledge.**

 **Anyways.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! I'll try to update once a week but no promises for the next two weeks as my parents will probably be monitoring my every move on my laptop.**

 **Please review, though! I always appreciate them. They help keep me motivated and help me figure out how to improve the story. :D**

…o…


	2. In which Victor skates for Yuuri

**In which Victor skates for Yuuri**

…o…

The Grand Prix Final.

Or, to be more specific, Victor's fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final.

It was no surprise to anyone when the silver-haired idol had placed in first rankings to make it to the final, and they certainly wouldn't be surprised if he won again. In fact, one could say that it was even expected.

That was the issue.

Victor skated through all his performances with the goal of surprising people. But after so many years of skating like that, everyone weren't surprised anymore. They expected new records. They expected new themes. They expected perfection.

But Victor wasn't sure he could give that to them anymore.

He wanted to skate because he liked—no, because he _loved_ to. But the ever foreboding pressure of pleasing his fans and the media were starting to get to his head. He couldn't surprise them anymore. He couldn't surprise himself.

"Vitya."

Victor blinked, realizing that he was holding on to the rim of the rink a bit too tightly. His knuckles were beginning to turn white, so he released and glanced up at his coach.

Yakov looked concerned, to say the least. His eyebrows were knitted in worry and his mouth was turned in a grim frown. He didn't say anything more, just looking at Victor, which communicated a lot. The skater sighed and made his way to the exit as a voice came over the speakers.

"First is Yuuri Katsuki, the sixth place qualifier for the final. Katsuki hails from Japan, where he is—"

Victor's eyes widened, and he nearly tripped as he pushed past Yakov to get closer to the rink. His coach yelled at him, waving his skate guards in the air. Victor absentmindedly grabbed them, but his eyes remained focused on the figure in the middle of the rink.

That had to be him.

His face was knit in concentration, his black locks pushed out of the way of his beautiful dark brown eyes. His outfit was a soft blue, shimmering slightly in the rink's lights. It took all of Victor's willpower to look away and turn to his confused coach.

"Vitya, what are you doing?"

"Yakov," Victor murmured, suddenly grasping the older man by the shoulders. "Yakov, that's _him._ "

The stone-faced man grumbled a few words after processing what Victor meant, before heading back to the bleachers. Victor, however, remained amongst all the cameramen, leaning as close to the rink as possible. Standing next to him was a tanned man with bushy hair, who Victor assumed was Yuuri's coach. He also seemed a bit anxious, his eyes flitting from the cameras, to Yuuri, to the bleachers.

And then the music started.

But Yuuri didn't.

He only moved when the man next to Victor yelled something, but his movements were stiff and jerky. Victor frowned. He had heard of Yuuri's skating before, but only as "the qualifier from Japan," as he didn't interact with other foreign skaters that much. But even then, this was not at all the skating that Victor had heard about. Yuuri was known for being a graceful performer, even if his technical scores were a bit lackluster. That was how he had even managed to qualify for the final.

Right now, he looked like a newborn duckling that had yet to learn how to walk.

He touched the ice on most of his turns, and two of his loops turned into singles. His fell at least two times, struggling to get up quickly as well. His only emotion he expressed was nervousness, his entire body shaking as if he had been dunked in a pool full of cold water.

He collapsed on the ice as soon as the music finished, his body still shaking, but this time it was clear to see that it was because of the sobs racking his body. After a minute, he stumbled to the exit, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. He pushed past his coach, he had run to meet him, and headed immediately to the Kiss and Cry.

Victor winced as he heard the score.

The other performances passed by in a blur, and all Victor could do was applaud politely and watch the rankings shift and change. Yakov nudged him as Christophe entered the Kiss and Cry, and Victor began to prepare to enter the ice.

Victor waved at the crowd, a smile gracing his features as he skated to the center. Yakov stared at him from the sidelines, standing next to another one of his students – the junior's gold medalist, Yuri Plisetsky. Yakov had his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face, as per usual. Yuri had his hood pulled off, but the expression on his face was no less intense.

Victor hadn't seen Yuuri since the Kiss and Cry moment, but all he could do was hope that his soulmate was just being interviewed somewhere, still by a television where he could see what Victor was about to do.

The song began.

For so many years, Victor skated for others. He skated for his friends, his family. He skated for his fans and supporters. But never had he never truly skated for himself.

Triple Salchow.

That was the only thing, he imagined, that was left to surprise anyone. For once, to just let everything go. His worries, his aspirations, his being. All that was left was to skate. To dance. To be. That had been his goal all along with the short program, but until seeing Yuuri, he hadn't been able to execute that.

Quadruple Flip. The crowd cheered, but Victor didn't hear.

The rest of the program went by in a haze, Victor's mind only focused on one thing, or rather, one person. He landed his jumps perfectly, and when he passed by Yakov during the step sequence, he glanced a look of shock. He allowed himself a small smile, before being pulled back into the song.

Yakov hugged him at the Kiss and Cry as his score was revealed. He had achieved a new personal best, and therefore, a new world record. Even Yuri, who had barely talked to before, congratulated him. Immediately after the medal ceremony, the press attempted to swarmed him, bombarding him with questions. He smiled and attempted to answer, but his words were muddled and his tone exhausted. Yakov took notice, and pulled him away with some made-up excuse.

"Have you seen him?" Victor blurted out the second they stepped into the green room. Yakov shook his head.

"He wasn't in the stands with the other skaters, and he wasn't with Celestino."

"Celestino?'

"His coach."

"Oh."

Yakov patted him on the back, a sympathetic frown on his face, as if recalling the love that he had once held with his own soulmate. "I'm sorry, Vitya. But you'll see him again soon. There's still the exhibition and banquet, after all."

…o…

The exhibition was a bust. The banquet, however, was not.

…o…

 **Ohgoshohgoshohgosh**

 **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

 **Thank you so so so much for the overwhelming support! I wish I could respond to all the reviews but I've lost track of them all. XD**

 **But it means so much to me that you all like this fic! I honestly can't believe that I'm getting this much support omg.**

 **QOTD: Thoughts on the last episode? Respond in a review!**

 **Answer: Oh gosh, it was amazing! The face that Yuri wanted to get gold at the very end so that Yuuri wouldn't quit…that character development. And I can't wait for season 2! On another note, Kubo-sensei's Instagram is so cute. I die every time I go through it.**

 _ **Friendly reminder: I'm looking for a beta reader to help me improve my chapters! I'd really prefer if you'd be able to use Google Drive, though.**_

 _ **Review goal: 25?**_

…o…


	3. In which Victor falls in love

**In which Victor falls in love**

…o…

"Why do you look so weird?"

Victor glanced up, shooting a confused expression at the blond sitting next to him. Yuri made a little 'tch' sound before uncrossing his arms and leaning against the table.

"Stop frowning. It makes you look stupider," he stated bluntly. Yakov glared at him, but even the old coot couldn't scare Yuri. He was a force to be reckoned with, as Victor had learned over the past hour, when they had been getting ready for and arriving to the banquet.

Needless to say, Victor was rather upset over the exhibition. Yuuri Katsuki was nowhere to be seen. He had even mustered up the courage to talk to Celestino, but all the Italian could do was apologize. He explained that immediately after Chris performed, Yuuri had gotten a call from his sister, who said that his dog had passed away. That had only dampened Yuuri's already bad mood.

Victor couldn't blame him for being upset, of course. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if his own fluffy poodle, Maccachin, passed away after a competition. He would probably lock himself in the hotel room and go through several tubs of ice cream while crying before he was ready to go outside. And on top of that, Yuuri had to deal with his…well, less than lackluster performance.

The main thing that bothered Victor was that from what Celestino had said, Yuuri must have missed his performance. That upset him a bit, to say the least. He didn't want to be selfish, but at the same time he just wished that Yuuri could have seen him.

He was jolted out of his mourning when Yuri shoved a phone screen in front of his face. "See? You look so stupid."

Victor frowned. He figured he looked more upset than stupid, so he said so.

Yuri made another 'tch' noise before taking his phone back. Victor managed to hold back a snicker when he realized that his phone case had a snow white cat's face emblazoned on the back – a gift from a fan, no doubt. Yuri tried to put up a façade that his fans annoyed him, but Victor knew he was secretly glad that people cared about him.

"Vitya, look."

Victor turned his attention to where Yakov was pointing, and stood up.

Yuuri.

Except, it wasn't Yuuri.

His blue tie hung loosely against his neck, threatening to fall at any moment. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and his suit's jacket hung on his right shoulder. His hair was disheveled, and it was a wonder that he could even see. In his hand was an empty glass – one that was no doubt filled with wine just moments prior.

He stumbled from side to side, gaining the attention of many of the people gathered around. He stepped on a few feet, and nearly knocked over a few chairs, before ending up in front of Yuri. There was a moment of silence as the two skaters stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

Suddenly, Yuuri jabbed the blond in the chest, before slurring out: "Dance…off. You, me."

Yuri scrunched up his nose, before attempting to turn away. But Yuuri grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of the seat. Yakov stared in horror, as Victor tried to process what he was seeing.

"Make way! Make way!" Yuuri sang, striding through the crowds. People parted like the Red Sea, before there was an empty space in the middle of the banquet room. Yuuri let go of the younger boy, before putting a hand on his hip and calling out to no one in particular, "Muuuuuusiiiiic!"

And there began the single greatest event of Victor's life.

He whipped out his phone immediately as Yuuri began flailing his limbs. Yuri made an attempt to walk away, but the crowd was closing in on him. Victor himself stood in his way, a heart-shaped smile on his face.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said cheerfully, shoving Yuri "lightly". "It would be bad sportsmanship to not participate!"

Yuri glared, shaking like an angry kitten. After a moment, though, he whipped around and marched back towards Yuuri. He grabbed him by the collar and spat, "This is just another competition, so don't expect me to go easy on you."

The man just grinned at him, before swatting away his hand. After a moment of hesitation, he untied his tie and wrapped it around his head. He shot Yuri a silly look before shooting finger guns at him and saying, "Leeeettt's gooooo, Russian punk!"

It turned out that Yuuri was an excellent dancer, even when drunk. Although Yuri insisted even after the event that he hadn't tried, Victor was pretty sure that doing the splits in a suit was not a casual move.

When it appeared that Yuuri got bored with Yuri, he turned away and frowned at the crowd, as if looking for his next victim. There was a moment when Victor almost stepped forward, but instead, a tanned man stepped out into the space.

"Yuuuri," Chris practically purred. He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder, before winking and saying, "Why don't you and I have a dance-off of our own?"

It was one thing to see Chris half naked dancing on a pole, but completely another thing to see Yuuri doing the same thing.

Yuri stood next to Victor, snapping pictures like crazy, no doubt for black mail. Victor glanced at his phone screen, spotting nearly thirty. He himself only had about five.

Around them, people had started dancing on their own – albeit a bit more decent. Yakov was sitting at table, face down and cover his head with his hands, as if contemplating his life's decisions. Celestino sat next to him, staring at the ceiling, as if wondering why he had ever agreed to be Yuuri's coach.

Yuuri swung by, balancing on Chris's bare chest. He was swinging around an open bottle of wine in his right hand, and he nearly sprayed Yuri in the face. Yuuri and Victor made eye contact for a moment, and he cheerfully lifted up the wine bottle and shook it from side to side. "Viccctooooor!"

But Victor's eyes weren't on Yuuri's face anymore. Instead, he was staring open-mouthed at the word written on Yuuri's wrist. After a moment, his look of shock formed into a wide smile, and he grinned at Yuuri…

…His soulmate.

…o…

"Victooor!"

The twenty-seven-year-old jumped, spinning around to face the person calling his name. He had been talking to Yakov about something, but the topic's importance dissipated the second he saw who was calling to him.

Celestino had managed to get Yuuri to put his shirt back on, but his pants and jacket were strewn somewhere and his tie was still tied loosely around his head, effectively ruining his hairdo even more, if possible. He stumbled towards Victor, and with no hesitation, threw his arms around his neck and brought their bodies close together. Victor's eyes widened. Was he really about to…

…grind on him?

"Victor! Dance with me!" Yuuri said, a huge smile on his face, as If he had no idea what the lower half of him was doing. Snot and sweat ran down his nose, but for whatever reason, to only thing that Victor could pay attention to were the dark brown orbs that seemed to hold to world in them.

"And iiifff I wiiiin," Yuuri continued, "You have to be my coach!"

Yakov made a choking noise.

"Be my coach, Victor!" he sang, pushing all his weight on the older man. Thank the lords that Yuri, who was behind him, had the decency to attempt to hold him up. Albeit, it appeared as though he was now recording the whole thing on video.

A smile of his own formed on Victor's face, as he looked at hopeful face beaming at him. With a chuckle, he said, "Of course, Yuuri. I'll dance."

Yuuri's grin widened even more, if possible, and he took Victor's hand and began dragging him away. Quietly, to himself, Victor murmured:

"This man is the reason why I'm gay."

…o…

 **Quick update because…**

 **NEARLY 2000 VIEWS, OVER 40 REVIEWS, OVER 90 FAVORITES, AND OVER 170 FOLLOWS! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**

 **Thank you all so so much! I don't say this enough, but your support is beyond appreciated. Although I can't respond to all the reviews, just know that I appreciate them so, so much.**

 **Also, thank you, Isa, for putting up with my daily screaming over this fic.**

 **To that one Guest who reviewed about their husband: Yeah, my brother is the same. A lot of straight guys I know are like that? But I've yet to meet a straight girl who's ok with gay guys but no lesbians…odd. Eh, whatever.**

 **REMINDER: I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA READER. NOTHING SPECIAL, JUST TO FIX MY GRAMMAR ERRORS AND SUCH. PLEASE REVIEW OR PM ME IF INTERESTED!**

 _ **Next chapter: In which Yuuri skates for Victor**_

…o…


	4. In which Yuuri returns home

_In which Yuuri returns home_

…o…

"Aw, Yuuuuuuri! Detroit will be so boring without you!"

The man in question simply laughed before reaching in for one last hug from his best friend. Phichit obliged, albeit grumbling about how he hadn't known Yuuri was leaving until two days ago.

The Thai skater was really the only foreign skater that Yuuri considered a friend, but the main reason for that was because they had been together for nearly three years, working under the same coach. Besides, it was hard not to get along with Phichit. He was a positive person and a true extrovert, but also a talented skater.

"I'll miss you," Yuuri said with a smile.

"Keep in touch, my dear love. I will hold you close in my heart," Phichit said, wiping away a fake tear and placing a hand on his heart. Yuuri laughed before finally heading into the security line.

…o…

Home, sweet home…

Things had started going down for Yuuri after Nationals. He had lost big time to a skater much younger than him in Nationals, having lost all his motivation after Sochi. He hadn't even qualified for Four Continents or the World Championship. So, he concentrated on college and finished his last semester so that he could return to Hasestsu after five years.

He had cut off things with Celestino before booking a flight back in March. He had gotten off it an hour ago, and then gotten on a train to Hasestsu's train station. He was just stepping off the escalator when he looked up and was met with a not-so-pleasant sight.

"EEEHHHH? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY POSTERS OF ME? IT'S BEEN LIKE HALF A YEAR!"

Sure enough, there were at least a dozen posters from the first Grand Prix final plastered across one of the walls in the station. They had advertised a public viewing that had occurred during the live showing on television, but now the words were faded from weather-abuse, the corners peeling, threatening to fall off at any moment.

"Yuu-ri!"

Yuuri jumped and turned around, looking for the person that had called for him. Almost immediately, his focus landed on a tall woman standing at the front of the crowd, a huge smile on her face. "Minako-sensei?!"

"Welcome back!" she cheered, before spinning around, her brown hair whipping across her face. She unfurled a banner with his name printed on it in a vibrant pink. He had no doubt made it to cheer him on during the public viewing of the Grand Prix Final and Nationals.

Minako was a ballet instructor and the owner of the only ballet studio in Hasestsu. She had taught Yuuri when he was younger, and when he wasn't on the rink, he was usually in her studio. Without her help, Yuuri doubted he could've gotten as far as he did. He wasn't particularly talented like Victor Nikiforov, but he had gotten the blessing of a place to practice and people who supported him every day.

"How are you?" she asked, hugging him. After his surprise disappeared, he hugged her back.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a ballet class?"

"Not today," Minako said as she pulled away, a frown on her face. "Besides, I don't get much business here in Hasetsu anyway."

Yuuri thought back to when he was younger as Minako pulled him along through the station. Not many people had attended Minako's ballet classes in the first place. Even though she had been a world-famous ballerina, that title didn't do much in Hasetsu. The town was too small.

"You have to greet everyone in town!" she said excitedly, looking back at Yuuri. Immediately, he froze.

"Nononononononono," he said, stopping and waving his hands in front of his face. "I'm…um, really tired. Besides, I want to see my family first."

Minako shrugged, before grabbing his sleeve once again and beginning the walk to Yu-topia. Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she hadn't suspected anything.

The truth was that Yuuri wasn't very tired. He had slept on both the plane and the train, in hopes to match the time zone differences. He just didn't want to face the townspeople who had held so much faith that he would win, or at least place on the podium, in competition, and bring tourists back to Hasetsu.

Hasetsu hadn't always been so small. It was quite a popular attraction, due to its many hot springs and famous castle. But the hot springs were shut down, leaving Yu-topia as the last one standing. Then, word got out that the Hasetsu Castle wasn't infested by ninjas, but rather, rats.

He was still rather ashamed of having to face his parents like this. They had always supported him, helping pay for his fees even when it was hard. He remembered that after every season, his mom would ask him to come back, saying that she would make him a pork cutlet bowl for every victory.

He hadn't come back.

A petal from a sakura tree landed on Yuuri's nose, and he blinked rapidly before looking up at the tree from which it came. He had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to realize that they had already crossed through the gate into the pathway leading to Yu-topia, lined by sakura trees.

"Hirokooooo! Yuuri's home!" Minako called, as she bounded up the small wooden steps leading to the porch. She burst through the doors, and it took Yuuri a moment to process that she had let go of him. He shook his head. Since when had he become so absent-minded?

He slowly walked up the stairs while taking off his backpack. He set it down once he got through the doors, just in time for his mother to ambush him in a hug.

"Oh, Yuuri! I'm so glad you're back! How are you? Are you tired? Are you hungry? I made a pork cutlet bowl for you!"

Yuuri laughed, used to the bombardment of questions. It was how Hiroko started every phone call. He didn't really mind. In fact, he found it to be one of her most endearing qualities. She always cared for the well-being of her family.

"Oi, Yuuri, I just realized…"

Yuuri looked at Minako, who was already seated in front of the TV. Her eyes narrowed, and she suddenly stood up and marched over to him. Before he could respond, she whipped off his jacket and scarf.

She screamed in horror.

Yuuri winced. "It's not _that_ bad…"

"Well, Yuuri always did gain weight easily," Hiroko laughed. She had stepped to the side and had now returned with a pork cutlet bowl in her hands. "I'm sure a few more of these won't do anything, then!"

"Hiroko! This is not the weight a figure skater should be in!" Minako screeched, waving her arms frantically. As she continued to panic, something caught Yuuri's eye.

He left the two women to themselves, and opened a door off to the side. It used to be a storage room, but Hiroko had converted it into a place for prayers. Sometime over the past few months, she had set a picture of a younger Yuuri holding Vicchan in his arms. Newly burned incense sat in front of the altar, smoke wafting into the air.

Yuuri kneeled down, and it suddenly felt like the Grand Prix Final all over again. He head fell, and it felt as though his heart had gained a thousand pounds. His head began to pound, and it was as if a million sirens had gone off in his mind.

He had lost so much that night. His figure skating career, his family's faith in him, Vicchan, and most importantly…

…his first, and now his last, opportunity to meet his soulmate.

…o…

 **QOTD: How are you coping with the end of the first season?**

 **AOTD: FDAOISJFJOIWAJFOIEWJFPOEWJFOAKNV;SADF A *sobs***

 **This chapter was supposed to be** _ **in which Yuuri skates for Victor**_ **but because it's been like two weeks since I updated I decided to cut it short. I actually have an excuse for once - it had a minor surgery on my ears last week (when I was supposed to update) but the injections that came along with it made me really sick so I couldn't bring myself to read anything. Still, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have waited so long.**

 **Thank you to all the people who offered to beta read. I've finally decided on one after reading through your stories for ages. XD Their username is far2addicted, please check them out. Thank you for helping me, Addi!**

 **Also, thank you all so much for the crazy support on this fic. I can't even keep track of it all. We're one of the top 10 most followed fics in the YOI category, and that's just mind-blowing to me. I never imagined FFN would ever affect my life so much in the past year like it has.**

 **Milestones: 150 favorites, 250 follows, and 4500 views! Whoooooo!**

 **Happy (belated) New Year! I hope you have a wonderful day!**

…o…


	5. In which Yuuri skates for Victor

_In which Yuuri skates for Victor_

…o…

Although Hiroko warned him that they would eat dinner soon, that didn't stop Yuuri from running to Ice Castle Hasetsu, the local ice rink. He had practically grown up on that ice, along with his closest childhood friend, Yuko. Along with her husband, she now owned the ice rink, and their young triplets already learning how to ice skate. Even though it had been five years since he visited Hasetsu, Yuuri had kept in touch with Yuko. After all, she was the whole reason he had started skating in the first place.

He passed an old fisherman as he neared the Ice Castle, breathing heavily and panting. The old man gave him a startled look, as if concerned for his health. Yuuri resisted the urge to turn his head and yell, "I'm not having a heart attack, I promise!"

Maybe Minako hadn't been over-exaggerating about how out of shape he was. He hadn't skated for a while, and he hadn't watched his diet. He knew that he had gained weight, but he had never fully processed how much of an effect that would have on him. It would take nearly a month to burn all the fat off, but that was only if Yuuri avoided pork cutlet bowls…

…so, he planned to gain weight instead.

He slowed down to a walk once he reached the top of the stairs leading to the Ice Castle, and held on to the rail for a minute to catch his breath. The sign said that the rink was closed, but the lights were still on and Yuuri could see Yuko putting away skates through the glass doors. Yuko's family, who had always owned the ice rink, had always allowed him in after closing times, so he hadn't really thought about not being allowed in.

His hand faltered as he reached out to grasp the door handle. Why would they let him in late again, though? Sure, he still talked to Yuko now and then, but he had abandoned Hasetsu. Yuko had helped him so much, even encouraging him to go to the Detroit. He had let her down.

Why was he doing this?

Suddenly, his eyes brightened. He took a deep breath and stood straight, adjusting the scarf around his neck before opening the door. Yuko immediately looked up, and delight filled her face.

For Victor.

"Yuuri! Oh my gosh!" Yuko sang, hurrying out from behind the counter. She stood up on her tip toes before engulfing Yuuri in hug. "Oh, it's been so long!"

Yuuri smiled, hugging her back. But he jumped in surprise as three identical faces popped up from behind the counter.

Yuko turned her attention to what Yuuri was looking at, and smiled as she saw the three young girls. Pointing at one at a time, left to right, she explained, "These are the triplets! Axel, Lutz, and Loop!"

Yuuri was only allowed a brief moment to wonder how Yuko had given birth to triplets three years ago and was still incredibly skinny and fit, before he was bombarded by questions.

"Did you really fail the Grand Prix Final?" Axel asked.

"I heard he crashed and burned at Nationals, too," Lutz said, turning to her sister.

"And he even quit things with his coach," Loop said.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"What about a crush?"

"I heard you had a crush on mom when you were little."

"Girls!" Yuko scolded. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the toddlers. "Those are not appropriate questions!"

"It's okay, Yuko," Yuuri said, a bit dazed. "To answer your questions: I placed low in both competitions. I cut off things with Ciao Ciao because I was coming back to Hasetsu. And for your last three questions: I'm really, incredibly, indescribably…gay."

Yuko laughed at his answer. She was one of the few people that Yuuri had come out to when he was little, but he had still never showed her the name of his soulmate. She understood, of course, and never pushed it after he said no the first time she asked. That was one of the reasons that Yuuri respected Yuko – she knew her boundaries.

"But that doesn't answer whether or not you have a—" Axel started.

"Now, it doesn't matter who he has a crush on. It could be Victor Nikiforov for all it matters," Yuko cut her off. "But Yuuri didn't come here to answer your questions. Shoo." She waved her hands as if that would do anything to make them move.

The triplets left after a few grumbles, but Yuuri was sure they would be back soon. Meanwhile, though, Yuko turned back to him. She clapped her hands together, the smile returning to her face.

"So, what are you doing out so late?"

Yuuri gulped. This was it. There was no going back. He rubbed his heads, and averted his eyes from Yuko's gaze. They landed on the glass doors leading to the rink. The lights were turned off, but patches of moonlight drifted through three windows. It almost looked like some enchanted garden.

"I wanted to show you something."

…o…

After putting on his skates and making it onto the ice, Yuuri took off his glasses and handed them to Yuko. His vision was rather bad, so he was required to wear them all day. He only took them off for skating. Celestino had suggested contacts so he didn't ram into a wall like he did in his first Junior performance, but they had only ended up irritating Yuuri's eyes.

"Please…watch," Yuuri murmured, as Yuko set down the glasses next to her. She smiled and nodded eagerly, gesturing for him to start the performance.

He took a deep breath, before turning around and skating to the middle of the ice. He didn't have the music for what he was about to do, but he hoped that it wasn't needed. He wanted to convey something that was beyond comprehension by sound, and that was something he could only do by moving.

He began, lifting his arms above his head before dropping his head and arms at the same time. Yuko gasped, and Yuuri knew that she had recognized the performance.

Victor Nikiforov's free program, with the music _Stay Close to Me._

The truth was that Yuuri hadn't really stopped skating, he just had stopped going to Celestino's practices. Yuuri wasn't sure if he could ever truly stop skating – it was something that he was dependent on, something he had always done. It was a routine, a necessity.

He wasn't a genius, he knew that. He wasn't naturally talented at much. Sometimes it seemed as though the only thing he was good at was screwing up.

Like at last year's Grand Prix.

His only chance to meet Victor. To meet his soulmate.

Triple Axel. Clean landing.

He _knew_ that Victor was his soulmate. Every time his graceful figure came on to the TV screen, or any time Yuuri read an interview that was conducted about him, his heart filled with an indescribable sort of joy. At first, he had labelled it admiration, too afraid to accept the word written on his wrist. But the one fateful day, when Yuko had suggested they try to recreate one of Victor's performances, his life completely changed.

It almost felt as though he carried a part of Victor with him when he skated with Yuko in those routines. He felt like a bird, free and soaring through the clouds, so high that no one could ever reach him. But Victor was beside him, and only Victor. Because nothing else mattered then.

Quadruple flip. He stumbled and fell.

Yuuri could feel the tears streaming down his face as he scrambled up, but they were not caused by his fall. He had lost his opportunity to unite with Victor. He had given up everything, crashing and burning and failing. He was falling away from Victor, reaching his hand out hopelessly, knowing that he could never be close enough ever again.

It was only Yuko's awed applause that caused Yuuri to look up. He realized that he had finished the routine, despite the fall in the middle. He had never been this involved in a performance, never before so deep in his emotions that he didn't realize what was going on around him.

"Oh, Yuuri…" Yuko whispered, tears falling down her own face. A weak smile covered her face, and Yuuri knew that she understood the meaning behind the performance. "Even Victor would be proud of what you just did. If only he could see…"

Little did they know, three little girls hiding in the bleachers were making that wish come true.

…o…

 **I apologize, but this author's note won't have much to do with the story. But thank you for 300+ follows! Also, thank you again to Addi for accommodating for my wild schedule! The rest of the note is just me being a mushy girlfriend so please feel free to skip.**

 **ISAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

 **HAPPY TWOOOOO MOOOOOONTHS!**

 **You know, it's really really hard for me to explain how much I love you. Never in my life did I ever think that at such a young age, I would care for someone as much as I care about you.**

 **You came in my life when I was really struggling through a lot of things. I was forcing myself to be positive and do what everyone expected of me and wanted, but I didn't feel that way around you. You made me feel comfortable and happy again. That's why I love you.**

 **You're kind and considerate. That's why I love you.**

 **You believe that fictional worlds are full of magic. That's why I love you.**

 **You make me smile and laugh at times when I feel like I never will again. That's why I love you.**

 **You made me feel happy about who I am. That's why I love you.**

 **You're beautiful inside and out. That's why I love you.**

 **You find joy in the simplest things. That's why I love you.**

 **THAT WAS REALLY CHEESY NOW I'M EMBARRASSED I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD DELETE THAT**

 **la;jfdskjljflskjdf;ljfJLA;JSDLKJF**

…o…


	6. In which he arrives

_In which he arrives_

…o…

Yuri Plisetsky stood at the edge of the rink, stretching, when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, before letting out a disgruntled snort and picking up the device.

He had been getting notifications from Twitter and Instagram all morning – all about the same thing: a video that had gone viral in the figure skating world. Yuri had been skeptical of it since he first heard Yuuri Katsuki was involved.

Mila, one of Yakov's students, had attempted to force him to watch it before, even going as far to lift him above her head and carry him to the break room. Only Yakov's intervention had stopped her and Yuri had immediately sprinted back to the rink, where he was now.

After flicking through the messages from his fans, he decided to finally watch it. Mila would force him to sooner or later, and he'd rather not be decapitated while watching it. He clicked on the link provided in one of the messages, and it took him to YouTube. The video was called "Yuuri Katsuki attempts Victor Nikiforov's Stay Close to Me." That earned another snort.

That pig? Attempting Victor's performance? He had to see this.

He would never admit it to the egotistic man's face, but he greatly admired Victor. They didn't talk much though, even though they were both Yakov's students. It wasn't that Yuri was afraid or anything. It wasn't like he felt bad that the few times he talked to Victor, he usually sassed him.

Of course not.

The video was published by "Ice Castle Hasetsu." The name rang a bell, and Yuri remembered that that was the town that Yuuri was from. He clicked the play button.

The video wasn't very good quality; it seemed as though someone had taken it from a distance and on a phone. The person shooting the video appeared to be sitting on bleachers. In front of them, a short woman with brown hair stood, talking to Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuri made a little 'tch' noise. The piggy had gained a lot of weight. How was he supposed to attempt Victor's performance when it looked like he hadn't skated in months? This was going to be interesting.

Yuuri skated to the middle, looking as stiff as a plank of wood. He stayed still for a good thirty seconds before he finally loosened up and began.

The blond didn't look up until the video was finished.

…o…

Victor yawned loudly, walking into the kitchen in his apartment. Maccachin happily padded after him, his tail swishing from side to side.

Victor usually skipped morning practices. He was a heavy sleeper, and even Yakov's screaming never woke him up. He made up for it with the afternoon, though, when he was entirely dedicated to working on new performances or helping the younger skaters.

A piece of paper stuck on the fridge caught his eye, and he frowned. He usually never stuck things on the fridge unless it was a reminder to himself. He didn't remember writing anything last night, but then again, Victor was forgetful.

He moved the magnet (it looked like Maccachin, and was gift from a fan) and took the neon pink post-it in his right hand. He squinted as he attempted to read it, still barely awake.

Hi, Victor in the morning!

You probably forgot you wrote this. It's kind of late while I'm writing this, though, so I don't blame you.

Three things!

!: Maccachin's running out of food.

2: Your hair looks terrible. Please find the gay within you and comb it before going to practice today. Being laughed at by Yuri was humiliating yesterday. How was I supposed to know it looked like I had a bald spot?

3: Your fans have been tweeting you links to a video. Apparently Yuuri K. (your soulmate!) attempted Stay Close to me! Watch it!

There were several hearts around Yuuri's name, and Victor stopped just short of smacking himself across the face. Since when did he turn into a sixteen-year-old school girl with a crush?

He looked down at Maccachin, who was rubbing his face against Victor's sweatpants. (The habit was one of the reasons he wasn't allowed at the ice rink anymore. Long story.).

"Well, Maccachin, what do you think? Should we go watch the video of Yuuri?"

…o…

"Oi, Yuuri, are you back from the ice rink?"

The man in question dusted some snow off the top of his head as he stepped inside of the inn, before calling out, "Yes, Mari. What is—UF!"

His sentence was cut off as a ball of fur suddenly flew into him, licking his face and preventing him from breathing. Yuuri yelped as his face was assaulted by a tsunami before the ball of fur clambered off of him. It was only then that Yuuri managed to get a good look at it.

"Vi-viichan?!"

No, it couldn't be. The poodle appeared to be the same breed, but it was bigger than Vicchan. Besides, Vicchan hadn't been as excitable. But for some reason, it seemed so familiar…

Just as Yuuri reached out to pet him, Mari stepped in to the front hall, her brown hair drawn up in a bun. A frown covered her features, but it dissipated as she saw Yuuri being assaulted by the poodle.

"Oh, you found the dog. It came with some foreign guest a couple hours ago, right when you went to the ice rink."

Something clicked in Yuuri's brain.

"Maccachin?" he asked disbelievingly. The dog looked up from sniffing Mari's feet immediately at the sound of his name, and padded on over to Yuuri. He barked once before sitting down and wagging his tail. Yuuri reached out in disbelief, and began absentmindedly petting him.

"Victor?" he asked, staring at Mari. His older sister frowned.

"You just said his name was Maccachin, didn't you?"

Yuuri shook his head. "No…I mean, what's the name of the guest?"

"Oh, yeah. It's Victor," Mari paused. "Hey, isn't your soulmate's name—"

Mari didn't get the chance to finish her sentence. Yuuri shot upwards and sped past her, Maccachin running next to him. She sighed and called out, "He's in the hot springs!"

…o…

Victor sighed contently, resting his elbows on the edge of the hot springs. He had been hoping that Yuuri would've come back by now, but he wasn't going to complain. These hot springs were better than any jacuzzi he had ever been in.

Yakov hadn't been very happy when Victor booked a rushed ticket to Japan without so much as a warning. The angry man had only caught up with Victor in the airport, practically blowing steam out of his ears.

 _"If you leave now, you can't come back! How do you not realize this?!" Yakov roared. By this time, they had gained quite a crowd of onlookers. Yakov had entered the airport screaming Victor's name at the top of his lungs, after all._

 _Victor smiled faintly. "Well, the media has been speculating about my retirement."_

 _"This is about your stupid soulmate, isn't it?" Yakov asked, his eyes narrowing. Victor's smile disappeared._

 _"He's not stupid."_

 _"You haven't even had a proper conversation with him! And now you're just running to Japan after him?!"_

 _"We're soulmates for a reason. Besides, if things don't work out in that sense, I still want to be his coach."_

 _"Lilia and I were soulmates, too, Vitya! Look how well that turned out! Besides, what do you know about coaching?!"_

 _"You two still keep in touch."_

 _"That's not the point—"_

 _"Listen, Yakov," Victor muttered, taking a step closer to his coach. "You and I both know that I have never been one to listen to what you say. And that will not change today. It will never change. If he doesn't fall in love with me, so be it. I'll still love him. If this is the end of my skating career, so be it. It may be the birth of Yuuri's."_

 _He turned his back on Yakov, and began walking away quickly, pulling his suitcase along behind him. He pushed his way through the crowd, but just as he was about to step into the security line, he paused and turned back to look at the old man._

 _"This, my dearest coach, is my final surprise."_

Victor was torn away from his thoughts as the door into the inn suddenly flew open, and a familiar poodle burst out. Immediately after burst out a certain black-haired man. He fell to his knees, panting heavily, before looking up and meeting Victor's gaze.

Victor's heart burst into a million butterflies.

…o…

 **Hi hi! Thank you all for the support! This A/N will be back on topic, but thank you for making me feel slightly less embarrassed about the last note haha.**

 **So, in case you didn't realize, we're starting to follow the canon plot a bit more now. I'm going to change some minor and major things, just to fit with the way I want this story to end. And for those of you wondering: this story will not end like the anime, most probably.**

 **Thank you for over 100 reviews, 200 favorites, and 300 follows! Aaaanddd also thank you for a whopping 10,000 views! AHHH!**

 **Also thank you to far2addicted again for betaing!**

 **I haven't really been feeling well these past couple weeks, so I'm planning on taking a week's break. I'd also like to get back on track with my other fanfiction, so I'm not sure how long I'll be gone.  
**

 **AND TO HOLD YOU OVER IMA RECOMMEND TWO OTHER YOI FICS THAT YOU'VE PROBABLY HEARD OF BUT DON'T GET AS MUCH RECOGNITION AS MY FIC AND TBH THAT ISN'T FAIR THESE FICS ARE WAY BETTER:**

 **Separation Anxiety (Victuri)**

 **Catch Me, Capture me (Victuri)**

 **QOTD: How did you find this story? (browsing, friend, another author's favorites, etc.)**

 **AOTD: I wrote this story so I can't answer this. XD**

…o…


	7. In which Victor the sass master returns

_In which Victor the sass master returns_

…o…

Victor's brain made questionable decisions at times.

For example, the one time he brought Maccachin to the rink without clipping a leash onto him first (that was another reason why the pooch wasn't allowed in the rink anymore). Needless to say, the result of that experience involved a lot of people yelling at Victor. At least afterwards, he had had the common sense to always keep a leash on Maccachin.

But now…now, he wasn't quite sure what to do.

Here he was, eyes locked with none other than his soulmates. Soft brown eyes that reminded him of cold winter nights spent cuddling by the fire, drinking a mug of hot cocoa, wrapped up in warm blankets. He could see himself looking into those eyes every day from now on, waking up next to them ever morning, seeing them whenever he looked to his side.

"V-victor?" Yuuri asked breathlessly, still panting. He lifted his hand up, brushing away the hair hanging over his eyes absentmindedly.

One part of Victor told him to introduce himself naked, that Yuuri most definitely remembered the events from the banquet five months ago. The rational part of him told him to stay in the hot springs, smile, and talk like a normal person. Yuuri had been drunk out of his mind, so he might not have remembered the events.

Victor Nikiforov was not known for doing things normally.

"Hello, Yuu-ri!" Victor sang, standing up with a flourish. He stretched his arm out with a wide grin. "I've come to Hasetsu to become your coach!"

Immediately, Yuuri's face filled with a bold red, and he lifted his hands to cover his eyes. Victor did his best to pretend that he wasn't blushing as hard. At least the statue covered his…well, that was besides the point.

Victor was all too aware of the other patrons staring at him from the inside of the inn through the glass windows and wall. After he threw a solid glare their way, though, they looked away. He glanced back to Yuuri, only to find the young man still covering his face, hunched over.

"Yuuri, are you alright?" he called out. Then he paused. Did Yuuri even know English? Most international skaters did, but there was a chance he didn't know what Victor was saying. He hadn't even considered that they would have a language barrier.

"I'm…I'm fine."

Oh. Never mind.

"It's just that…sometimes, people get kind of flustered when someone introduces themselves completely naked," Yuuri murmured, so quietly that Victor almost didn't hear. He blinked in surprise. Maybe Yuuri had a sarcastic side.

"I'll…I'll be going inside now," he said. Hands still covering his face, he turned around and nearly walked into the glass wall. Maccachin barked next to him, before leading the way to the door. Victor watched their odd procession, but turned away just in time to miss the look that Yuuri gave him before entering the inn again.

…o…

Yuuri sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. He hadn't been expecting this at all. Granted, he hadn't even known that the triplets had uploaded the video until just this morning, but he hadn't expected it to go this viral in the skating world.

He opened the door to his room with his foot, his hands preoccupied carrying a large box. He planned to take down all the posters of Victor he had. He didn't need the man to think he was some sort of crazy stalker.

He set the box down on his neatly made bed, before closing the door. Just as he was turning to take down his first poster, though, he heard a whimper at the door and something scratching at it. Yuuri stared at it for a moment, before remembering that Maccachin had been following him. He smiled to himself, before opening the door to let the poodle in.

The pooch padded in, turning his head from side to side as if looking at his surroundings. He seemed to deem the bed the most comfortable place to lay, so he wiggled on to it and settled himself on top of one of Yuuri's pillows.

Yuuri, meanwhile, set to work taking down all the posters. It would take a while – the bland grey walls were covered from top to bottom. Every birthday since discovering Victor, he had gotten at least three new posters from his parents and Yuko. Apparently, since he had been gone, Hiroko had continued adding to his collection. His heart warmed a bit as he saw a few graphics and pictures lining his door.

After thirty minutes, he had managed to roll most of them and store them in the box. He didn't have room for the few more, so he pushed the box underneath his bed. He opened the door and left, waiting for Maccachin to follow him of course, intending to get another box. However, he nearly ran into Mari instead.

"Victor's out of the springs," she said as Yuuri stepped backwards. Then, without warning, she grabbed Yuuri's right wrist and brought it up to her eyes. He yelped in surprise, attempting to tug it back, but Mari had an iron grip.

"Yep, it's spelled the same and everything," she said. It took Yuuri a moment to realize that she was looking at the name inscribed on his wrist, and he relaxed for a moment. She let his hand drop, and headed back towards the stairs. "Come on, let's check his wrist."

"What do you mean?" Yuuri asked, following after her.

"He's asleep in the main room right now. All I have to do is turn over his wrist, and then you guys can go live happily ever after or fuck in your bedroom. I don't care which one. Just use protect—"

"Oh my god, I hate you."

Mari smiled.

As they entered the main room, Yuuri's eyes were immediately drawn to the sleeping figure sprawled in the middle of the room. Maccachin immediately trotted over to his owner, and snuggled up against his chest. Victor, out of habit, reached over and wrapped his arms around the poodle like a teddy bear.

"He fell asleep as soon as he came out of the springs," Hiroko said, laughing. She was seated at the low table, a steaming pork cutlet bowl in front of her. Yuuri's mouth watered, but he knew it was probably for Victor.

Mari tip-toed over the Victor, and reached for his hand. Maccachin, however, wasn't about to have any of that. He barked, and Mari stumbled backwards. Unfortunately, the sound was also loud enough to wake Victor up.

The man opened his eyes sleepily, before sitting up, still holding Maccachin like a stuffed animal. His outfit slipped halfway off his shoulder, but he didn't seem to realize, or he didn't care. He looked, clearly tired, before mumbling something.

"What was that, Vi-chan?" Hiroko asked, leaning closer.

"Hun…gry."

"Oh, well, I made something for you!" Hiroko said, a bit too enthusiastically. "It's Yuuri's favorite!"

Clearly, Mari had been talking to someone other than Yuuri about her speculations. He managed to shoot a glare at his older sister before she dragged him down to sit next to their mother.

"Oo!" Victor said, immediately pulling the bowl closer to his body. He immediately began pigging out, and Yuuri couldn't help but spare the smile. "Delicious!"

"I make it for Yuuri whenever he wins a competition," Hiroko said with a smile, looking at her son fondly.

"But Mari said he's been in Detroit for a while?" Victor said, looking up for the katsudon, voicing the question that Yuuri had been thinking.

"Well, I make it, but he doesn't often get to eat it," Hiroko laughed.

Yuuri's heart warmed even more, which he didn't think was possible.

"Oh, because he doesn't win competitions often?"

Yuuri fell over backwards.

Mari covered her mouth partially with the back of her hand, but that didn't do anything to hide her snicker. "No, because he hasn't visited for five years. Mom makes it every competition."

"Just qualifying for the Grand Prix and Nationals was a great accomplishment!" Hiroko said excitedly, clapping her hands. "I'm so proud of him!"

Yuuri winced, wondering if Hiroko knew she was talking to a five-time consecutive winner of the Grand Prix Final. However, to his surprise, Victor simply smiled.

"It is, isn't it? I remember, I was beyond ecstatic when I first qualified for the Grand Prix."

"Weren't you expecting it, though?" someone said from behind Yuuri.

Yuuri jumped, turning around to find Minako leaning against the doorway. She had a bottle of alcohol in her hand, but it was already half empty. She swayed from side to side as she walked, but managed not to trip over anything as she sat next to Victor.

"What do you mean?" Victor asked, looking at the older woman. A small smile quirked his lips, and he seemed rather amused. Yuuri wasn't sure why, though. He, himself, was absolutely mortified.

"Didn't you win the Junior Grand Prix?"

"Yes, but the senior division is still something hard to debut in. It took me…what, four years to qualify for the Grand Prix the first time?"

"Everyone says you're really talented, though," Mari said, clearly surprised.

Victor shrugged. "Sure, but that was probably my downfall. I was much too egotistic. That's not to say I'm not prideful anymore, I am, but I've learned to control my emotions better. I know my faults. I know where I have to improve."

He looked back at Yuuri, and for a moment, Yuuri forgot how to breathe. His eyes were like the ocean, shifting between a sky blue and mesmerizing emerald green.

"However, that doesn't matter anymore," Victor said. "What matters is whether or not _you_ know where to improve, my dear Yuuri."

…o…

"That's all of them!"

Victor sighed, pretending to wipe away sweat that wasn't there from his forehead. Behind him, Yuuri set his last box down on the floor and immediately collapsed on top of it.

"So…many…boxes…"

"Oh, did I pack too much?" Victor asked, tapping his lip with his index finger. He glanced behind him at Yuuri, just in time to see Maccachin leap on top of him. "Maccachin, no! Get off—"

"Aw, are you tired?" Yuuri asked the pooch, absentmindedly scratching him behind his ears. Victor watched in awe as Maccachin barked and licked Yuuri's face before settling his head on Yuuri's chest. The man just laughed, moving his hand to pet the poodle.

"You know how to handle Maccachin well," Victor noted. Usually, no one he knew could calm Maccachin though. The dog was amiable, but almost to a fault (another reason he wasn't allowed on the rink anymore).

"I had a poodle just like him," Yuuri said. He spoke slowly, and Victor realized that it was probably getting late. He wasn't very tired, after his power nap, but he imagined that Yuuri must be.

"Really?"

"Yeah…Yuko told me you got a poodle when I was little and I wanted to get one, too."

Victor kneeled down next to Yuuri, reaching out to pet Maccachin as well. His hand brushed Yuuri's. "Why are you speaking in past tense?"

"Vicchan passed away after the Grand Prix."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. I forgot."

"It's okay."

"If you don't mind me asking…did you name Vicchan after me? Your mother called me Vi-chan when we were eating, but I didn't really understand."

"Yes. His name was actually Victor, but we called him Vicchan."

Victor nodded. Yuuri began to sit up, and Maccachin jumped off of him and padded out of the room. The younger man adjusted his glasses and looked around, as if just remembering where he was. He glanced at Victor and frowned. "I don't know why I just told you that. I told myself I wouldn't."

"Why's that?" Victor asked.

"It's embarrassing."

"I think it's kind of cute."

Was he blushing? Before Victor could look closer, Yuuri turned his head to the side. Out of reflex, Victor's brain told him to do something stupid again.

He reached out, lightly lifting Yuuri's chin and turning his head back towards him. The younger man stared at him, clearly confused, before his eyes started widening as Victor leaned closer.

…o…

 **Hihihi! Back after the little break! This chapter is like 2000 words how did this even happen?**

 **I just want to clarify something: in this AU, the first airport scene did NOT occur. With how this timeline goes, Victor would have most definitely recognized Yuuri. I didn't want that to happen, so let's just assume that their flight times are different.**

 **Also like can we have some Hiroko appreciation because I really like her character even though she was barely shown? She's like a bundle of happiness and I-love-my-children-and-I'm-so=proud-of-them-even-though-i-don't-even-know-figure-skating.**

 **Thank you for 250+ favorites, almost 400 follows, and 130+ reviews!**

 **I hope you have an amazing week!**

 **QOTD: What's your favorite colour?**

 **AOTD: I like mint, but not the super green kind, y'know? The kind that's kind of blue, kind of green. And not the darker ones. The light ones. This is oddly specific. Why am I typing this.**

 **Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day! I'm writing this after finishing the entire Author's Note and everything as I wasn't planning to publish this. I can't send the chapter to far2addicted as for whatever reason, my Google Drive and computer hate me. If you're reading this, Addi, I'm sorry! XD I'll try to fix it.  
**

… **o…**


	8. In which people worry

_In which people worry_

…o…

"You really think Victor is his soulmate?"

Mari sighed, crushing her cigarette against an ashtray. It had been a few days since she lit one, since she knew that Yuuri didn't like her habit. It was the morning after Victor had arrived, and Mari found solace in knowing her little brother would sleep in after the intense work of helping Victor carry his boxes upstairs - the man had more than Mari could've counted.

Mari sighed, thinking of the first time she had lit a cigarette by Yuuri…an hour's lecture ensued, all about how smoking increased the risk of certain diseases, could cause death, and a million other statistics that she hadn't bothered to pay attention to.

Yuuri was always affectionate. Sure, he was shy when first meeting a person, but afterwards, he relished the small and intimate moments he could share with someone. He took a while to get attached to a person, though. Being social was something that he greatly struggled with. The only time Mari had seen a loud Yuuri was one time when he had accidentally gotten drunk at a restaurant. It was safe to say that the waitress had trouble judging the age of the restaurant's patrons.

"I haven't checked, but why else would he come all this way?" Mari asked quietly. Hiroko sighed, turning around to face Mari. She held a towel in one hand, and a plate in another. Mari took the two items from her, stepped up to the sink, and began to dry the plate. Hiroko stepped to the side, watching her for a moment, before pulling up a chair to sit next to her.

"Perhaps he really does have interest in being his coach," Hiroko offered, taking off her glasses. She wiped them with the edge of her shirt, before putting them back on - something she always did when she was nervous.

"After the Grand Prix and Nationals?" Mari asked. She set the plate in the drying rack and picked up a bowl to wash – the one Victor had eaten the katsudon from. "Mama, Victor's one of the top figure skaters in the world, one of the most famous. Why would he want to coach our Yuuri?"

"Yuuri has talent!" Hiroko said indignantly.

Mari sighed. "No, Mama, no. Yuuri is wonderful at figure skating, yes, but he does not have natural-born talent. He has…potential. _Victor_ has talent. He surprises people. They love him."

"I wouldn't really put it that way."

Both women turned their heads to the source of the new voice. The silver-haired man himself stood against the kitchen door, leaning against the frame.

"Yuuri is talented, in his own way," Victor said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Mari set down the plate she was washing, silently turning to face the skater. "You want to know why I came? The way he skates…he creates music with his body."

"You saw the video?" Mari asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. You see, the video had no sound. But it didn't need to. Just from the way he spinned, the way he stepped, the way he skated, I could hear music, but it was different. It was _Stay Close to Me,_ but at the same time, it was Yuuri's own song. He made it his own."

"So you're really here to coach him, then?" Hiroko asked, hopefully. She stood up, clutching the hem of her shirt as she always did when she was nervous.

"Yes," Victor said, flashing one of his dazzling smiles. Mari snorted, and he turned his attention to her. "You don't believe me?"

She pointed to his wrist.

His smile weakened for a moment, something Mari would have missed if she hadn't been observing his expression. It fixed itself after a millisecond, however, and he lifted his right hand up.

"Your sleeve is covering it."

"I know."

"So you're his soulmate, then?" Mari asked quietly.

Hiroko sounded heartbroken as she sat down in her chair, "You're not really here for his skating, then?"

"I am here for Yuuri in both ways," Victor said sharply. His eyes hardened, and all of a sudden, they looked more like deadly ice than a soft summer's sky. He tugged down his sleeve fiercely, revealing Yuuri's name printed on it at the start of his wrist in beautiful black calligraphy.

"I've been looking for him as my soulmate. I've been looking since that day at the banquet, goddammit. Do you know how hard I've tried to find him?" Victor asked. His voice was quiet, but Mari could sense the anger pulsing behind it. She held her ground, but her mouth sank into a thin line. "But when I saw that video, I realized I was meant to be more than a lover for Yuuri. This isn't going to be a fairy tale story. I will push him until he breaks as a coach, I will hurt him until he is born again, a phoenix from the ashes. But as a soulmate, I will be there for him. I will piece him back together; I will always be by his side. And don't you _dare_ try to question my motives or feelings for Yuuri. I will _never_ do anything to purposefully hurt him."

"How do you even know that you love him? You've barely talked to him." Mari wondered how she had managed to respond after Victor's spiel. Hiroko herself seemed dumbfounded, her mouth agape.

Victor took a deep breath, and something passed over his face. He straightened himself out, and Mari realized that perhaps Victor had more sides to him than she had taken into account.

He patted where his heart was with his right hand.

Hiroko smiled.

…o…

Yuuri yawned, clambering down the stairs. He was in his usual morning fuzz, and was having trouble recalling the events of the previous day. It felt as though he was forgetting something, but what? He stepped into the main hallway, and was about to head to the kitchen when—

"WOOF!"

A ball of fur slammed into Yuuri's chest and he stumbled backwards, sitting down from the force.

"Oh Yuuri, you're awake!"

Yuuri looked up, locking eyes with his soulmate.

Oh.

He need to get milk.

…o…

 **Short little chapter, but the beginning seemed essential for character development to me.**

 **I've decided to abandon the structure and planning for this story, which means updates could be random, infrequent, frequent, weekly, monthly, and anything in between. This also means I may not be able to send chapters to far2addicted as much, so please forgive any mistakes that may be in this chapter.**

 **I hope you understand.**

 **Also, thank you for 420 followers! I've always wanted to achieve this specific number. I want to thank Dolly, my friends, my family, my cat that I might have in the future, my neighbor's dog, and the people who tp-ed my neighbor's house.**

 **QOTD: What are things I can improve with this story? I want to make it better for all of you!**

 **AOTD: I think I need to constrain myself less. The beginning of this chapter is one of the few parts of this story that I've freely written, and although I feel as though it's a bit tedious to read, I think it conveys emotions better than how I've been writing before. How do you feel? Do you like the beginning?**

 **Thank you for reading! Please review with your answer to the question, I would really appreciate feedback. :D**

…o…


	9. In which Victor learns

_In which Victor learns_

…o…

Victor gasped, his breathing frantic and exhales short. He bent over, pressing his hands against his knees, closing his eyes as he attempted to regain control over his breath. Next to him, Yuuri bolted up the last step and stretched casually.

"H-how…are…you...n-not tired?" Victor managed to spit out between breaths. He sat down on a rickety old bench, impatiently pushing his fringe out of his eyes.

Victor had decided that before Yuuri could get on the ice again, he desperately needed to lose weight. Fortunately, Yuuri both lost and put on weight well, and through the program Victor had prepared for him, he would be able to near his previous weight by the end of a month more.

It was the first day, and Victor had learned three very important things so far: firstly, Yuuri needed motivation in order to accomplish his goals. The motivation could be as simple as Victor yelling encouragements, or Maccachin leaping alongside him as they ran up the stairs to the castle.

Secondly, although Yuuri was overweight (and leaning rather close to obesity), he was still rather fit. Of course, Victor should have gathered that from how he executed _Stay Close to Me,_ but he was oblivious at times.

Thirdly, Yuuri had a ridiculous amount of stamina. After two runs up and down the stairs, Victor was absolutely tuckered out. Yuuri, although panting a bit, didn't seem to be nearly as tired as the older man.

Yuuri shrugged in response to Victor's original question. "I was just blessed with it, I suppose."

"No, no one has that much stamina naturally."

Was that a blush?

"I was…ah, I did ballet for a while. Even before skating. Minako-sensei was rather strict about us staying in shape. We ran a lot."

"Minako is the woman with the long brown hair?"

"Yes."

Victor nodded. His breathing was more controlled, but that was more due to the fact that Victor didn't want to look completely weak in front of Yuuri. He stretched his arms over his head. "Don't feel bad about being a ballerina, by the way. Quite a few skaters are. I did a lot of ballet practice, as well."

"I-I didn't mean it in that way. I'm sorry"

Victor paused. A fourth thing: Yuuri tended to overanalyze things, always too worried about offending someone. This was one emotional situation he actually knew how to handle – it wasn't good to tell someone that they shouldn't apologize. "It's alright, don't worry. Ballet Is good practice." He smiled.

"I…okay," Yuuri murmured. He bent down, patting Maccachin on the head as the poodle trotted up the stairs. The pooch affectionately rubbed his head against Yuuri's legs. Sometimes Maccachin reminded Victor more of a cat than a dog.

"Ballet can be rather helpful, really. You don't do it anymore?"

"I mean…not since Vancouver, but before, even when skating, I would go to Minako-sensei's studio at least four times a week."

Victor nodded. "Is that why she's so close in the family?"

"No, the reason I went so often is because she's close to the family. Mama and her were friends in school."

"And they're still friends?"

"Yes."

"That's nice. So, shall we move on to the next exercise?"

Yuuri nodded.

"We'll just walk down the stairs, and then we can go to the exercise room."

Maccachin led the way, Yuuri right behind the pooch. Victor drifted a bit back, taking his time heading down the stairs.

There was a part of him that wanted to rush into things, to just tell Yuuri that they were soulmates. But Yuuri wasn't emotionally stable, in a way. Pushing so much onto him would put too much pressure on him. He had already panicked that day when Victor had nearly kissed him, bolting out of the room and locking himself in his own bedroom. Even now, Victor was reprimanding himself for moving so quickly.

As of now, all Victor wanted to do was build their friendship from the beginning. Once that was strong enough, perhaps after the Grand Prix, Victor could show Yuuri his wrist. Until then, he wore an array of bracelets along his wrist.

"Victor? Are you coming?" Yuuri called. Victor frowned, glancing up. He realized that he had stopped in the middle of a step.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about something." Victor ran down to catch up with Yuuri, who was already on the path.

"About what?"

Victor bit his tongue. "Nothing."

"That's rather contradictory."

"Um…RACE YOU TO THE RINK!" Victor yelped suddenly, sprinting off towards Ice Castle Hasetsu.

"Seriously?! Avoiding the conversation?!"

Maccachin won.

…o…

Fifth: Yuuri always wore long sleeves.

…o…

 **I ground out this chapter during Chem. It was suffering.**

 **Chemistry, of course, not the writing.**

 **Just trying to get some more character development done again! :3**

 **Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows.**

…o…


	10. In which Yuri is an angsty teenager

**In which Yuri is an angsty teenager**

…o…

Yakov had been irritable for a while.

Not that that was anything out of the norm, but he seemed…different, per say. Not only that, but Yuri hadn't seen (insert sarcasm) the great, almighty, beautiful, international skating legend that graced their pitiful piece of ice (when he managed to wake up on time, anyway).

It wasn't hard for everyone to realize that Yakov's annoyance and Victor's disappearance were related.

Yuri himself was annoyed with the stupid white-haired idol's disappearance, but not for the same reason as Yakov. But that was another story.

"Does no one really know where he is?"

Yuri glanced up from his phone, to find one of his rink mates staring at him intently with two sea green eyes. "Mila, why are you talking to me?" he asked bluntly. "What happened to your boyfriend? Oh, did you break up with another one?"

Mila's eye twitched, and before Yuri could scream, "Barcelona Grand Prix Final," she was holding him above her head.

"MILA, WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN!"

"I've been practicing my lift! How is it?" she asked cheerfully, spinning around.

"Unless you plan on skating in a couple's competition with him, I suggest you put him down."

Yuri sighed in relief at the appearance of Yakov, but nearly screamed as Mila practically threw him down.

"S-sorry, coach!" she said. "I'll get back on the ice!" And with that, the redhead fled. At first, Yuri was grateful for his disappearance.

Then he turned around to find Yakov glaring at him.

"What?" Yuri asked, shoving his hands in his jacket's pocket. "If you're here to ask me about that stupid—"

"I already know where he is."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been expecting that answer. Well, wherever Victor had gone, it might as well have been hell from the way Yakov's face was turning red.

"Where?" Yuri asked, turning back to the edge of the rink. Mila passed by him, shooting him a glare, before skating towards a gaggle of her girlfriends in the corner.

"Japan," Yakov muttered, leaning against the rink and crossing his arms. Yuri choked.

"JAPAN? What the _fuck?_ How is he supposed to make my short program in a little island in the Pacific Ocean?" he yelled, slamming his phone down against the rink.

Yakov stared at him. "…What?"

Yuri slammed his palm against his forehead repeatedly as he said, "Why. Is. Vic. Tor. Such. An. Id. I. Ot."

Yakov stared at him for a few moments as he continued to abuse himself, before snorting and walking away. "Just don't do anything stupid like go after him."

Yuri stared at Yakov's retreating figure, dropping his skate that he had picked up to stab himself and end all his misery.

Bingo.

…o...

Yuri had been expecting it to be hard to track down where in Japan Victor was. But the fates decided to smile on him that day (for once) and the very afternoon of the day where he nearly stabbed himself with his knife shoe, Victor posted a picture on Instagram of him posing with Maccachin in front of some sort of old-ass building with a location called "Hasetsu" tagged.

Yuri had screamed, nearly dropping his phone on his cat. He may or may not have run around his bedroom several times, screeching like those many years ago when he first found out that the holy Victor Nikiforov skated at the same rink as him.

Yeah, he was a Victor fanboy before.

That was before Yuri realized how much of an idiot he was.

…It also may have coincided with the day he realized that Victor didn't like cats.

Yuri strolled along, pulling his leopard-print suitcase behind him. A few people glanced at him, but he paid them no heed as he scrolled through his messages on his phone. Most of them were sent from an extremely angry Yakov who was demanding to know where he was (apparently Mila hadn't told him yet) and was commanding him to come to the rink. These Yuri left on read. A few were from Mila (which he also ignored), but one was from Victor.

 _From: Stupid Idiot_

 _9:31 a.m._

 _Mila told me you were in Japan! :D_

 _Make sure to stop by Hasetsu, Yuratchka!_

 _To: Stupid Idiot_

 _12:52_

 _I'm already here._

 _I'm going to cut your face with a knife shoe._

Victor immediately responded with a little sticker of a dog with a bunch of question marks around it's head. Yuri snorted, shoving his phone in his pocket. He was about to round a corner when something in a store window caught his eye. He immediately doubled back to a spot a black jacket with a huge roaring lion emblazoned on the back.

"It's so beautiful…" Yuri whispered, face pressed against the glass. "I…want…no, I _need._ "

And without another word, he bolted into the store.

…o…

It was only after posting a picture of him wearing the jacket with Hasetsu tagged in the location that Yuri remembered that Yakov followed him.

He ignored the seventy-two messages that flowed into his inbox throughout the day.

…o…

 **I apologize for the late + short update. I've been feeling more motivation for my art + PJO fics right now, and although I'm very grateful for the amazing support you guys have been giving me, it is a bit overwhelming.**

 **Thank you for reading! :D I haven't looked over this properly so pls tell me if I made any mistakes with grammar/spelling/something just doesn't make sense lol.**

 **Trivia: This fic was originally going to be called Something or the Other because I didn't know what to name it. The label for the folder which has the chapters is still SOTO (the acronym).**

 **ETHEM OUT**

…o…


	11. In which Yuri is PMSing

**In which Yuri is PMSing**

…o…

It didn't take long for Yuri to figure out where Victor would be. After all, it appeared as though there was only one ice rink in Hasetsu. After getting the information on some directions from a suspicious old lady, Yuri made his way to the winding streets, only pausing for a moment to block Yakov.

He decided that the old lady wasn't so suspicious once he saw the group of reporters huddled around the entrance of Ice Castle Hasetsu (what kind of name was that?) who were eagerly peering in through the glass doors. Yuri paid them no heed as he marched up the stairs, dragging his suitcase along behind him, although a few turned to look at him.

At the front of the mob was a young woman. At first, Yuri thought she was another reporter, before he realized that she was actually attempting to block the reporters from entering.

"Sorry, sorry!" the woman called in heavily accented English. "Victor is busy right now! I can't allow media in! Sorry! Please stay back!"

Yuri shoved past a cameraman, whose eyes widened and immediately began whispering something to someone next to him. Yuri managed to catch his name and Victor's before the young woman stopped him.

"Um, sorry, but you can't go in right now!" she said, holding her hands out.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. It was obvious at this point that she was the owner or manager of the rink, but she must have been rather disinterested in competition skating if she didn't recognize Yuri. Or perhaps that was him overestimating his popularity again. Just as he was about to (extremely politely) explain that he was here to see Victor, the woman's eyes widened.

"Oh, Yuri! I'm so sorry. Victor told me you were coming. I didn't recognize you."

Yuri shrugged, biting his tongue back from saying something too rude. "It's…alright. Can I go—"

"FINISHED!"

Yuri groaned, recognizing the voice behind him. Sure enough, none other than Yuuri Katsuki staggered up next to him, walking past Mari. "Finally, the last workout! I can finally start skating again!" He turned to the woman, oblivious of Yuri's presence. "Is Victor in there?"

That's when Yuri lost it.

So (totally not of his own will) the next thing everyone knew, Yuri Plisetsky was kicking Yuuri Katsuki in the back, so hard that he flew past the doors and fell on the lobby floor.

He wasn't called the Russian Punk for nothing.

"What the _fuck?_ Coming to Japan to visit was one thing. That was what I had been expecting. Coming to coach someone? Fine, that's alright. Whatever. The old man's close to retirement anyway. But coming to coach _you_? What the hell? And not only that, but _you haven't even started skated yet?_

Yuuri stared at him in shock, mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. Eventually, though, Yuri's anger was redirected as Victor stuck his head out of a room, grinning broadly with that stupid-ass heart-shaped smiled of his.

"Yuratchka! So nice to see you!"

Yuri's eye twitched. "Nice to see you, my _ass._ "

"Oh Yuri, don't be silly, you don't have much of an ass," Victor retorted cheerfully. "It's all flat back there!"

Yuri grabbed a knife shoe from the counter and chucked it at Victor's face. Yuuri yelped, but Victor simply ducked as the skate flew above his head. The woman however, didn't have such a mellow reaction.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" she screamed, marching into the lobby. She slammed the door and locked it, and Yuri wondered why she hadn't done that in the first place. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as she jabbed a finger in his chest. "DON'T THROW AROUND SKATES LIKE THAT! FIRST OF ALL, YOU COULD HURT SOMEONE! SECOND OF ALL, THEY COST A LOT!"

"Okay, okay, sheesh, I'm sorry," Yuri muttered, shoving his hands in his jacket's pocket. Victor made a little noise of surprise and Yuri immediately whipped his head back to look at him. " _What_?"

"You're _apologizing_ ," Victor said, eyes wide. Yuri looked back at the woman, rolling his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Yuuko," she responded, placing a hand on her hip. Just as she spoke, three little girls wearing matching outfits suddenly appeared out of nowhere, snapping pictures. Yuri yelped, nearly backing into Yuuri.

"It's Yuri Plisetsky!" the one wearing blue declared, turning to Purple.

"We need to post this immediately!" Pink said.

"Don't use social media without my permission!" Yuuko cried, attempting to pull away the cameras.

"So many Russian skaters are coming to us!" Purple said, hiding her camera behind her back. "Next thing we know, Mila and Georgi are going to be here!"

"GIRLS!" Yuuko screamed. They glanced at her for a brief moment before disappearing into a back room. Yuuko sighed, turning to Yuri. "I'm sorry. Those are my daughters Axel, Lutz, and Loop."

"You really named your daughters after jumps?" Yuri asked incredulously. "Also, how the heck did you have triplets? You're so young. And…" he struggled for the right word. "…skinny?"

Yuuko laughed. "Um…thank you? My husband and I love skating so we had to. They have normal middle names though. I had them three years ago, when I was twenty-three, so I've had time to work out."

"Yuri, I didn't know you had it in you!"

Yuri turned back to victor, considering picking up another skate to chuck at him. He managed to restrain himself, though, after Yuuko shot him a look as if she knew what he was thinking.

"Had _what_ in me?" he muttered, grinding his teeth.

"You're being somewhat polite! And complimenting people!"

"Oh, shut up."

"So, why did you come here anyway?" Victor asked, finally stepping out of the room. He brushed his hair out of his face, and Yuri had the urge to reach out and fix the three strands that were randomly poking out. Why did he have a fringe? It was so _annoying._ He was always brushing it out of his face and it was always messed up and—

"Yuri?"

Oh, right. The question.

He cleared his throat before answering. "So you don't remember your promise. I should have guessed."

"What promise?" Victor asked cluelessly, tapping his pointer finger against his lips.

"You told me that if I listened to the old coach and didn't do quads last year for Juniors, then you would make me a short program for my senior debut. I've come to hold you to your promise."

Victor smiled, clapping his hands together. "Actually, that's perfect! I know exactly what I want to do!" And with that, he ran off to another room, leaving Yuri to stare at the place where he had been in complete confusion.

…o…

It took Yuri until they got back to the inn for him to remember a piece of vital information he had learned from Mila a few months ago. He froze in his tracks, causing Victor and Yuuri to nearly run into him.

"Um, Yuri, is something wrong?"

Yuri slowly turned his head, and he assumed that his face was portraying his inner turmoil _very well_ from the way Yuuri flinched. He had seemed on edge after Yuri had kicked him, and although he felt a bit bad for doing so, all his regrets disappeared whenever he saw Victor's stupid face.

"Vitya, you didn't really come here to _coach_ the piggy, did—"

He was cut off as Victor muffled his mouth with his hand, still smiling cheerfully. "Not right now, Yuri!"

Yuuri looked between the two, a bewildered expression on his face.

…o…

"Stop calling him piggy."

Yuri glanced up from Instagram to find a certain silver-haired man leaning on the side of the doorway leading into his room. He rolled off his bed, pocketing his phone in his sweatpants along the way. He walked to face Victor, turning his head upwards so their eyes locked.

"Why should I?"

"It bothers him."

Yuri snorted. "If he takes a nickname as an insult, that's not my problem."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me that you don't mean it as an insult, Yurio?"

Mari – the katsudon's older sister – had given him the stupid nickname during dinner when she mistook him as someone from a boy band he liked. Everyone else had adopted the nickname, claiming that it was easier to tell the difference between Yuri and Yuuri. Yuri, however, hated it. He was better than the Japanese Yuuri, he _knew_ it. So why was everyone treating him like the second option?

Yuri raised an eyebrow, mocking him. "Are you trying to tell me that when you call him piglet, it's not an insult?"

"Yes. It just depends on the way you say it, the intention behind it."

"Don't tell me how to talk to people," Yuri muttered, taking a step closer to him. "You can't even tell him that you're his soulmate."

Victor smiled coolly. "Even if I haven't told him, at least I have a reason. Why haven't you tried to go after your soulmate, hm? I heard that he was skating, too. What's his name again? Ota—"

Yuri shoved him backwards, slamming the door in his face.

…o…

 **I ship OtabekxYuri and y'all can fight me right now okay squarE UP**

 **Thank you for your wonderful reviews last chapter! I'm feeling much more motivated haha. I kind of forget what happened in this episode so I just kinda wrote whatever. Hope you don't mind!**

 **Next chapter:**

 _ **In which Yuuri's sexual orientation turns out to be katsudon**_

 **I'm getting less and less professional with these chapter names as we go on…**

…o…


	12. In which Yuuri is impregnated

_In which Yuuri is impregnated_

…o…

Victor had revealed his master plan during dinner that night.

Yurio had been indulging in one of Hiroko's pork cutlet bowls as Yuuri watched wistfully when the twenty-seven-year-old barged in the room, excitedly waving around a flyer he was holding with both hands. It took him a good three minutes to actually calm down, sit down, and explain what was happening.

"Ehhhh? What is this?" Yurio asked indignantly, snatching the flyer from the table where Victor had left it, katsudon completely forgotten. Yuuri waited patiently as the teen scanned the paper, before tossing it at Yuuri. "I can't read it. It's in Japanese."

On the paper were several graphics – a picture of Yurio from the previous Junior GPF on the left, and picture of Yuuri from the Senior GPF on the right. An image of a grinning Victor took up the bottom half the of the poster, although words covered everything but his head.

"…Hot Spring on Ice, Yuri versus Yuri. Hasetsu Exhibition," Yuuri read aloud. He frowned, flattening the poster against the table once again. "Victor, what is this?"

"I decided what I want to do with your short programs," Victor explained. Maccachin nuzzled his way onto his lap and he absentmindedly began scratching behind the pooch's ears. "I decided to give you both variants of my own short program – different arrangements and choreography of course – as I was explaining this to myself aloud, the Nishigori triplets came up to me and proposed a beautiful plan – to turn this into a competition!"

"I wouldn't call it beautiful," Yurio muttered, pulling his katsudon back towards him. "What does the winner get?"

Victor shrugged. "Whatever you'd like!"

"If I win, you come back to Russia and be my coach."

Yuuri's heart stopped.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that the teen would make Victor go back to Russia – he had thought all Yurio wanted was for Victor to make him a program. There was a part of him that wanted to take Yurio by the shoulders and shake him so hard that his eyes would fall out while screaming how selfish he was, but there was another part of him that stared blankly at the poster until Victor worriedly called out to him.

"Yuuri?" he asked, placing his hand on Yuuri's. The Japanese skater looked up at him, his face devoid of emotion. "Yuuri, what would you like?"

"I…" he looked down, searching for the words he wanted to say. _I want you to stay here. I want to see your wrist. I want you to coach me. I want to win the Grand Prix Final for you. I want you to stay beside me._

"…I want to eat pork cutlet bowls with you, Victor." He looked up, with new determination in his eyes. "I want to keep winning and eating pork cutlet bowls! So I'll skate this program, and I'll skate it with all I've got!"

…o…

Victor demonstrated the programs to them the next day.

First was Love: Agape, a beautiful and innocent program. The Greek agape, Yuuri recalled, was an unconditional love the transcended all circumstances. This was the kind of love he pursued, the kind of love he would embrace.

He assumed that the program was meant for him, and watched intently as Victor skated. However, something seemed…off, the movements, everything, as fitting as they were for the program, Yuuri could not see himself skating them.

Second was Love: Eros, a very different take on the concept of love. Eros, Yuuri remembered, was also a Greek reference – Eros was the god of lust. As Victor skated, Yuuri _really_ couldn't help the blush that climbed to his cheeks. Victor was very well portraying the theme of the story, and by how Yuuko was turned around and covering her face in her hands, she agreed. _It's enough for me, a man, to become pregnant,_ Yuuri thought for a wild moment. He gulped, deciding to take his mind off Victor's skating for a moment to think of the story following the program instead.

A player arrives in town, wooing every woman, except for one – the most beautiful woman, the pride and joy of the town. The player pursues her and wins her love, until he throws her aside and moves on to the next town. It seemed much more fitting to Yurio's personality – although he was still only fifteen – and Yuuri frowned, realizing that he couldn't see himself skate either of the programs.

"Well? What do you think?" Victor asked, skating towards the rink side.

"Your skating was amazing," Yuuko said, turning back around to face them. Victor opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Yurio.

"I want Eros," he said bluntly.

Victor smiled. "I'm your coach right now, and if you win, I'll be so officially, so _I'm_ deciding what program you skate to."

Yuuri's eyes widened as he realized what Victor was implying. Yurio seemed to realize, too, and immediately his jaw dropped.

"Yuuri," Victor said softly, looking at the Japanese skater. "You will skate Eros." He turned his attention back to his former rink mate. "Yurio, you will skate Agape."

Yurio sputtered, shaking his head, attempting to form words that weren't understandable. Yuuri simply stood there, stock still, trying to figure out what the hell Victor was thinking.

"I can't skate that," he finally said softly. Victor immediately looked at him, drawing his eyebrows together. "Victor, I'm sorry, but I can't skate that. I just can't do it. That's…that's something that no one would expect from me."

Victor smiled. " _Exactly_. I surprised the audience. Now it's your turn."

…o…

 **I had to throw in that little pregnant comment. I find it to be one of the worst lines in the show but it's so funny.**

 **First of all: I'm sorry that it took me so long to update. No excuse. Just lack of motivation. I've been working on my other story (Release the Gay) way more because I've just had a sudden bout of motivation. I've also been working on this huge…thing…that I can't talk about, but that's also for my PJO series.**

 **Second of all: I'm sorry that this isn't the chapter that I promised it would be (katsoduon-sexuality). I really wanted to update and I figured as long as I got something up, I might get some motivation again from reviews and such.**

 **Thank you for reading! I'll try my best to have the next chapter up as soon as I can.**


	13. In which Yuuri's sexuality is katsudon

**In which Yuuri's sexuality is katsudon**

…o…

"No no no, Yuri."

Yuri glared at Victor as the man prodded his cheeks. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Stop glaring!" Victor complained, pulling Yuri's cheeks so that he was forced to smile. "Agape isn't angry! This is about love!"

"Love is stupid."

Victor sighed dramatically, throwing his hand against his forehead. "And you're a teenager, but of course! But what can I do to help you…?"

Yuri didn't understand what was wrong. He had picked up the song fairly quickly, and he had only messed up once. Wasn't that good enough progress, considering the mock competition was in a week? All he had to do was refine the song a bit, and that didn't have to be hard.

"Yurio, do you understand what agape is?"

Yuri leaned against the side of the rink, watching as Yuuri went through his song for the millionth time. He kept missing a jump, and it was beginning to frustrate Yuri a bit. Katsudon hadn't gone on the ice properly for what, months? What made him think he could compete against Yuri properly? He wanted an actual competition.

"Pure love or some shit," Yuri muttered. Almost by habit, his eyes drifted towards his wrist. He had never bothered to hide his soulmate's name unless it was at competitions. Everyone at the Russian rink knew better than to bring it up (everyone except Victor) and in all honesty, Yuri didn't care. He didn't have time for love or soulmates, they could wait. They didn't matter.

He had to win.

"But do you understand what pure love is?"

Yuri looked up and glared at Victor. "The hell do you mean, old man?"

Victor grinned, tapping his finger against his lips. Yuri's eyes widened. That was not a good look. That look meant that Victor Nikiforov had an idea, and Victor Nikiforov's ideas were never—

"Yuuri~! Come over here, you and Yurio are going to go to the waterfalls!"

Yuri felt like cutting himself open with his knife shoe.

…o…

Yuri sneezed.

What the hell was this? It was so damn cold outside, and they were stuck underneath a waterfall, getting soaked? Was this even hygienic? What did this even have to do with skating? And-

"Yurio, you look like you're about to explode—"

"SHUT UP, KATSUDON."

-on top of that, he had to be here with the katsudon.

The Japanese skater beside him felt silent, and Yuri glanced down.

…As annoyed as he was, something about standing there, hearing the roar of the water around them, the gentle drift of the wind, was oddly calming.

It reminded him of something.

" _Did you see?! Did you see?!"_

 _Nikolai laughed as Yuri ran in to his arms, leaning down to catch him and lift him up. Yuri had just finished his first competition, coming in second place. It wasn't as good as he wanted, but as long as his grandfather was proud, he didn't care._

" _You did very well, Yuratchka," he said with a smile. He set Yuri down, but immediately took his hand. They were both bundled up in coats and scarves, as the cold weather had begun to set in again. Snow drifted down beside them. It was pretty, and it was calm, but most of all, Yuri felt warm, holding Nikolai's hand as they trudged along._

 _It was normal for Yuri's parents not to attend his practices, they were busy. Yuri didn't care much, though. As long as his grandpa was there, nothing could go wrong._

" _You'll come to my practice again, right?! Right?! I can do well, even if Mom isn't there!" he proclaimed excitedly, practically jumping up and down as they arrived to the car. His grandpa smiled, opening the back door and lifting Yuri into his seat._

" _Of course, Yuratchka. I'll always be here for you."_

"-Yurio? Yuri?"

The blond blinked, his eyes refocusing as he felt a tug on his arm. He looked up to see a worried Yuuri pulling him out of the stream of the water.

"Let's go, we've been under there long enough. We need to dry off before it gets cold."

"I…yeah, yeah, let's go, katsudon."

Yuuri glanced at him for a moment, clearly understanding the look on his face, before pulling him along. Yuri blinked away the wetness from his eyes, and for once, he was grateful for the stupid katsudon.

Agape was about pure love, unconditional love. A love that existed without ever needing something in return. A love—a _person_ that had guided Yuri throughout his skating career, a person that he cared about, a person that he taken for granted for far too long.

…o…

There was one part of Yuuri that was extremely happy to be skating regularly, and another part that was beginning to hate it.

Skating was like freedom, in a way. Yes, you had to stay with the program and follow the music, but you still had ways to express yourself. That was the part of skating Yuuri loved. That was the reason that even though competitions made him anxious and worried, he still did them. Because there was something about skating in that setting, having watched so many talented performances, having practiced for so long, that made him feel _alive._

But skating was also a lot of hard work. You had to stay in shape (Yuuri decided that this was absolute torture as he watched Yurio and Victor down pork cutlet bowl after pork cutlet bowl), you had to practice for long hours every day, and in Yuuri's case, watching someone skate five times better than you, and having them watch you.

Yuri Plisetsky still had a long way to go, though. His technical score was always off his chart for his performances, but whenever Yuri spared the time to watch them, he found that he couldn't stay focused. He had been missing the one factor that made the audience want to watch his every move, that made them unable to tear away their eyes from the performance.

But after they had gone to the waterfall the previous day, something had changed.

"Alright, we can move on to the next stage," Victor said, tapping his finger against his lips. They had finished practice for the day, and Victor had pulled Yurio aside to talk to him. Yuuri glanced behind him as he took off his skates. Victor hadn't spoken about a next stage before, but Yuuri assumed that it had something to do with the way he had skated today.

He frowned. If there was a next stage for Yurio, did that mean when Yuuri found his "eros," there would be a next stage for him, too?

As they walked back to the inn, Yuuri lagging behind the other two skaters, he began to wonder if eros was a thing he could ever achieve. Eros was confidence, beauty, and…all the things that Yuuri wasn't. It was what Victor was. What Yuri was.

The only thing he had figured out by that time was a sort of story that fit the song, something he often did to understand his pieces. A playboy had come to town, woo-ing every woman left and right, until he came across the most beautiful woman in town. He eventually won her over, only to throw her away and move on to the next town.

There were several things wrong with this: the first being that Yuuri was definitely _not_ a playboy and he was definitely _not_ interested in women. But for some reason, he could get the story of out his head, and he couldn't change it. So he was stuck trying to figure out a way to act like the character he had created, to _become_ the character he had created.

They arrived at the inn and went to their respective rooms to shower and change, before meeting at the hall to eat. Yuuri frowned, staring at his meal with unfocused eyes. For some reason, he didn't have much of an appetite, and that was unusual for him.

"Yuuri? Are you okay?"

He looked up to the concerned voice of his soulmate and couldn't help but smile. Something about Victor's expressions oddly reminded him of a puppy. His concerned look was mimicked by Hiroko, but Yurio was too busy stuffing his face to pay attention to the conversation.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just…thinking about the routine, is all," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "I just can't seem to understand how to become the character."

Victor tapped a finger against his lips. Yuuri had told him the story he had come up with a few days ago, and Victor had agreed that it fit the song perfectly. However, they had been concentrating on Yuuri actually getting the routine down first, considering that he hadn't been practicing for a while.

"Well, find something that relates to you like women do to your character," Victor offered. "It will help you relate more."

"So something you love," Yurio piped up suddenly. "You love a lot of things, don't you?"

They all turned to stare at the Russian skater.

"What're you all staring at?" he barked, but there was a light blush on his cheeks. "Am I not allowed to give advice?"

Victor propped his head on his chin. "Mm, sure. But Yurio, how do you know Yuuri loves lots of things?"

"Easy, he always talks about food, about Maccachin, about skating, about you—"

"That's enough," Yuuri said abruptly. "Thank you, Yurio. But…" he frowned. Something he loved, huh? Sure, he admired Victor, and they were soulmates but…they hadn't known each other personally long enough for Yuuri to be able to call the feeling in his chest "love."

They continued on with their meal, and as Hiroko returned to the table with her own dinner halfway through, Yuuri's eyes widened. He slammed his fist down at the table, startling everyone, as he yelled, "PORK CUTLET BOWLS ARE MY EROS!"

…o…

 **Um…I'm sorry I took so long to update…? *smacked in the face with tomatoes***

 **Okay but really, I am so so so sorry! I lost motivation for the fic and I just,,,don't really have an excuse besides that and summer. But I hope that maybe this chapter makes up for it a bit! I'm still trying to concentrate on the skating aspect more than the soulmates aspect (my skating knowledge is extremely subpar, though) for now. ;;**

 **But reading you reviews gave me motivation again so…thank you for leaving them and showing me so much support! It's still seems kind of ridiculous to me that this fic is so high up in follows, haha. It's such a big number that I can't even really process it.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reviews are always super appreciated and help me write better and quicker! ^^ Sending lots of love your way!**


	14. In which time passes

_In which time passes_

…o…

Yuuri Katsuki was very, very lonely.

See, there was a difference between being alone and lonely. Alone was something that Yuuri did not understand, because he was lonely. Alone, he imagined, was whenever Mama took walks by herself after dinner, meandering along the path winding over the ocean, before coming back just in time to tuck him and Mari in and kiss them on the cheek.

Lonely was what he felt sitting in the back of the classroom; lonely was what he felt when Mari got perfect marks and he awkwardly slipped away, scrunching up his mediocre exam in his hand; lonely was what he felt whenever he got shoved around and called a balloon; lonely was what he felt after Mama kissed him on the cheek and he let silent sobs rack his body, careful that Mari didn't hear him from the other side of the room.

And it was this feeling of loneliness that found him slipping away from Yutopia one night when he was five, carefully scribbling a note and tucking it under Mari's pillow in case she woke up, begging her not to tell Mama and Papa where he had gone. He just wanted to see the moon, he said. He just wanted to see the moon.

So he sat on the beach for what felt like eternity, watching the stars swirl and the moon cry. He was bathed in the pure light, the tears, and the terrible aloneness. Yuuri Katsuki was very, very lonely.

"Oi, kid, what're you doing out here so late?"

Yuuri started, instinctively jumping to his feet and hurriedly wiping the tears from his eyes. From back on the wooden boards lining the beach, a woman was calling to him, hands on her hips. Her eyes were narrowed, her shoulders perfectly straight, her hair tied into a tight bun; but something about her made Yuuri feel very, very safe.

He sniffled, rubbing his nose absentmindedly. There wasn't anything he could say, and it wasn't like a grown-up would listen to him. The woman was pretty, really pretty, so she probably had lots of friends. If she had lots of friends, she couldn't understand what it was like to be lonely.

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "feeling sad" and despite being so far away, the woman seemed to hear. Her posture loosened, and before Yuuri could blink, she was crossing the beach. She grabbed his upper arm firmly and gently tugged him to follow her.

Several alarms went off in Yuuri's head. 1) This is a stranger. 2) She is taking me somewhere. 3) Mama and Papa don't know where I am.

"You're Hiroko's kid, aren't you?"

Yuuri started at the mention of his mother's name. He never heard it used often; he wasn't allowed by the inn guests in case they were drinking or smoking. But he was fairly sure that was her name. Sure enough to stutter out a "Y-yes," and allow himself to be dragged halfway across town to a little flat, have a cup of milk firmly pressed into his hands, and watch an American cartoon with the woman he would soon call Ms. Minako.

She helped him sneak back into Yutopia after he cried his heart out, admitting how lonely he was to this woman he barely knew. She hoisted him into the window, where Mari was watching with big eyes, but not before she tucked an address into his coat pocket.

"Follow what I said, and go there tomorrow after school," Ms. Minako whispered, patting his coat. She winked at Mari, before hoisting herself over the fence and dancing away down the sidewalk, bathed in the moon's tears.

Yuuri did as he was told, but not before carefully asking Mama if she knew a lady with pretty long brown hair. Mama frowned at him, before saying that one of her friends had moved back into town recently, and asking him if he had seen her. He bit his lip, nodding, saying that he had seen her after school and she had asked him to come to her ballet studio.

Mama's face lit up so brightly that Yuuri nearly let his jaw drop. She excitedly ushered him outside, telling him to go with Mari to the studio, and reminding him to thank Ms. Minako when he arrived and before he left.

He still felt lonely, after that time. But he wasn't alone.

Ms. Minako taught him ballet, and he learned that she had toured the world as a ballerina for the past few years. She had come back to Hasetsu to settle down a bit, and teach ballet classes. She was fulfilling her dreams and goals. Yuuri liked her a lot.

After a few months of spending more time at her studio than at home, Ms. Minako suggested that he started ice skating. He stared at her in confusion at the phrase, before she explained it as "dancing but on ice." Yuuri soon learned that it was much more than just dancing on ice, but for sake of Ms. Minako's pride, he declined to tell her so.

He met Yuuko there. She was two years his senior, and very good at ice skating. She helped Yuuri learn how to skate at first, yelling at Nishigori whenever he tried to shove Yuuri down. It was okay, though, because for once, Yuuri wasn't being bullied. He was having fun. He had friends.

She excitedly introduced him to all the top skaters two weeks after he started coming to Ice Castle Hasetsu, and with a dreamy look in her eyes, showed him a video of her figure skating idol on the television set.

Viktor Nikiforov.

From that day on, he decided that skating was going to be much more than just an escape for him.

He practiced every day. He didn't have a proper coach for a while, not until he was into his late teen years and he begged his parents to let him go to Detroit to pursue his dreams. He would finish college, he swore. He sheepishly admitted it might take him extra time, with the figure skating included, but after days of consideration, Hiroko decided that she didn't want her son to be lonely anymore.

He met his best friend, Phichit Chulanot in Detroit. Phichit was a couple years younger than him, but just as practiced and eager to improve. They helped each other, trying to get accustomed to the vast cultural and social changes from their home countries. They stayed up together sometimes late into the night, when there was a holiday and they didn't have practice, looking at pictures of hamsters and watching videos of skating competitions.

Yuuri admitted his goal was to skate on the same ice, the same playing field as Viktor Nikiforov. For his idol to see him as worthy competition, in a way. Phichit, to his surprise, seemed very excited by this proposition. "You can do it, you can do it! I'm sure you can! You work harder than everyone else, you can do it!"

And so after the Grand Prix Final, when he quietly murmured that he wanted to go home, Phichit did not give him sympathy, and he did not give him pity. Instead, he gave him a firm nod, forced Yuuri to look in his eyes and said, "You keep working harder than everyone else. You can do it, Yuuri. It'll be okay. You can do it, because he matters so much to you."

Yuuri let tears fill his eyes, let his sleeve fall, and turned his wrist to face his best friend.

…o…

Viktor Nikiforov was very, very lonely.

He supposed that came with his goals. To most he was an idol, someone just out of reach; to others, the great prodigy rink-mate, the insolent student, the transparent son. Even the other skaters didn't like him, he was sure of that. They all thought he felt better than them, that he had some odd form of a superiority complex. And perhaps it was true in a way: Viktor did know he was better than them. But that was because he kept placing ahead of them in competitions, in the public's eyes, in skaters' minds. So who was he to blame?

He wasn't alone, perhaps. He had Makkachin, Yakov, his rink-mates, and Christophe…but it wasn't the same. He was still lonely, and he had a feeling nothing would fill that gap. Not after…not after the Grand Prix Finals. Not after Yuuri Katsuki's name slowly started fading from the standings. Not after Viktor was too weak, too weak to reach out to his soulmate and see if he could find something to hold on to.

He spent twenty one years without life and love.

Makkachin padded in front of him, excitedly tugging on the leash as an especially pretty-looking flower (which was uncommon, if not impossible to find in the winter time) came into view. Viktor chuckled, tightening his grip on the leash so the poodle didn't trample the bloom. He bent down, plucking it from the ground and holding it up to the dog's nose. "Hm, do you like this, Makka? Does it smell nice? Do you want it?"

"Viktor, the hell are you doing."

The man pursed his lips, straightening his back and turning around to look at the person who was addressing him. Ah, it was Yuri…Plisetsky, was it? One of Yakov's other students. He was rising rather face in the Junior standings, but the pure contempt on his face would make it seem like someone took away his skates and told him to go slide across the ice on his butt for his free skate.

"Makkachin liked the flower," Viktor said, as if that would explain everything. And it did. Dog liked flower. Viktor liked dog. So flower goes to dog.

Yuri scoffed, walking past them and nearly shouldering Viktor to the side. "The dog doesn't know Russian, old man. Much less whether you're asking it a question."

Ah. There comes the old, fake smile. Oh dear, and he had been doing so well this past week…

He tugged twice on Makkachin's leash, and the dog barreled forward so fast that Yuri jumped to the side with a yelp, glaring at Viktor with a mix of confusion and anger as the man jogged on by. "He may not understand Russian, but he sure does understand stupid people!" Viktor said cheerily, waving as they rounded a corner and the teenager dropped out of sight.

After a few more minutes and snow-covered blocks, Viktor checked the time and decided that he really should head home before he was late to the rink. Worlds were coming up in just the next two weeks, and the last thing he wanted was to give Yakov another reason to yell at him. They both knew he would do well, of course, because after all,

Viktor Nikiforov did well. Always. No matter how very, very lonely he was.

And so he went back to his apartment, pressed a kiss to Makkachin's head, tossed his bag over his shoulder, and silently walked to the rink just a few blocks away. And so he practiced well, helped the others whenever they asked, ignored Yuri Plisetsky's screaming, imagined what it would be like to be in front of those hundreds and thousands of people again. Again, and again, and again.

And so when he walked back to his apartment in the cold and hazy streets, watching as the moon's tears painted everything in the faintest colors of blue and gray, he found himself brushing a thumb over his soulmate's name, wondering what it would feel like not to be lonely. Wondering if Yuuri ever felt lonely. He imagined he couldn't. He seemed to be surrounded by so much life and love, if at least the pictures on social media were anything to go by.

Yet…

Two weeks later, he found himself curled up on his couch, a hand pressed to the side of his head and the other supporting his phone against his knees. Makkachin had settled himself against Viktor, but his warmth felt only like a dull touch, numbed by the video playing on the tiny screen in front of him.

Two days later, he found himself flicking through Disney movies on his way to Japan. It was hot, oddly enough for a plane, but he kept his coat on, having forgotten to wear long sleeves that day. He couldn't concentrate on the heat or movie playing in front of him, though. All he could think of was the clean cursive barely peeking out over a beige sleeve. All he could think of was his own name, pressed across Yuuri's hand, as he grinned at Viktor during the banquet.

A few hours later, he found himself watching the blinking lights of a runway enlarge into view, as the plane thundered across the strip and slowly taxied into a gate. A few hours later, he found himself being ushered into Yutopia by a woman named Hiroko with a glint in her eye. A few hours later, he found himself brightly introducing himself to his soulmate once more. A few hours later, he realized that Yuuri had no recollection of the scenarios at the banquet.

But the thought did not make him lonely.

And as he sat in between Yura and Yuuri, the younger teen bickering about how a food dish had nothing to do with sexuality, a content and sleepy dog splayed across his and Yuuri's lap, and a smile dancing across his soulmate's face, Viktor realized that he was not lonely.

Not anymore.

…o…

 **I'm back! …again…**

 **Thank you for your reviews! Hhhh they actually really helped me…I hope this chapter was okay. I'm deviating a bit from the original plan, because I'd like to focus on character development just as much as plot. ;; It's what I like best about writing!**

 **I've slowly been falling back into the anime so hopefully updates will come better now. Any motivation or support you could give through reviews would really help me! But thank you for reading, I hope you liked this! :D**

…o…


	15. In which they are reborn

**In which they are reborn**

…o…

Yuri Plisetsky was lonely.

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it, being the new skater, in a new city, with barely any background. He had known that there would be appraising stares, twisted lips, and heads tilting tellingly. That didn't numb the little sting in his chest, though, climbing into his grandfather's car at the end of a very long day with only the promise of pirozhki keeping him from screaming out in frustration.

The move to St. Petersburg hadn't been that hard in the first place. He had friends back home, but they weren't that close and he didn't really like them that much anyway (or so he convinced himself, as he frowned down at the lockscreen of his phone, a bright picture of him shoving Katerina into the sea when she wasn't looking). He missed his parents a bit, but they were too controlling and strict, and he had missed grandpa anyway.

There was no need to convince himself for the last statement, but now and then he found himself missing the constant warmth of the family cat burrowed up against his side as he collapsed on the couch after a tiring day of skating.

He knew that this was the right decision. Yakov Feltsman was one of the best coaches around, having taken several of his students, into the high standings of international skating. If he was going to succeed, he had long ago decided that summer trips to training classes and a mediocre coach the rest of the year would not be enough. Yakov in St. Petersburg was the best option. Not only due to the coach's popularity, but also…

Yuri took a deep breath in the passenger seat of the old car, allowing himself a small smile as he remembered Victor Nikiforov tossing him a small smile as Yakov introduced him to his new rinkmates.

"Yura, we're here."

The gentle press of Grandpa's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present, and he squinted out the car window at the worn down house battling the harsh winter weather, seeming as though it would collapse at any moment. It was a far cry from the expensive house covered in paintings and modern furniture that his parents had insisted on keeping.

Eventually, over the next four years, Yuri's presence became more prominent in the house. Papers and posters from school littered the creaky hallways, and it seemed as though one couldn't walk anywhere before tripping over a piece of clothing with boisterous animal print.

Carefully cleaned pictures of a smiling man and grim-faced woman holding a red-faced baby were soon pushed a bit farther back, replaced by pictures of Yuri Plisetsky smiling proudly on podiums with gold, silver, and bronze glinting on his chest. Soon, selfies that Mila always made the Russia team take were propped up against these frames, although Yuri had been quick to insist when Mila visited once that Nikolai had been the ones to print those (she knew better than to believe him).

On his fifteenth birthday, a small kitten was added to the mess of their house, a form of comfort for both Nikolai and Yuri. For the former, a soft reminder of love whenever his grandson was out and about during competitions. The latter, still encompassing a bit too much youthful stubbornness and pride to let himself go around his friends, found himself crying against the feline more than he would ever like to admit.

The house hadn't been the only thing that had changed. His rinkmates were much more like family now, and the only judging stares he received were when Mila decided to use him as practice for lifts. They had an odd friendship, full of sharp edges and insults. Mama and Papa wouldn't have liked it. All the more reason to not ruin it.

Yuri Plisetsky was still felt lonely sometimes, but that was fine by him. It wasn't as though there would be any one in the world who understood him as much as he understood himself. The only one out there, with his problems, was himself. It was hard when all he wanted to do was scream, when his parents' piercing voices came over the crackling of the telephone line blankly congratulating him for another performance, when Nikolai broke down into another one of his coughing fits or had to visit the hospital in the middle of the night, when he could barely have any friends at school because figure skating was time-consuming and—

"Yuuuuuri!"

The blond in question screamed as a heavy weight latched onto his back, but reflexively looped his arms under the legs now fastened against his sides. "Irena for _fuck's_ sake I told you to stop doing that—"

"Wanna get ice cream after your practice? Andrew will treat us!"

"No, I will not."

Yuri rolled his eyes as his friend picked up his and Irena's backpacks before following him out the classroom door. "I'm not going to practice today. Grandpa had a check-up."

"Awww, okay! What about tomorrow?" Irena asked, ever persistent. She began tugging at his hair as they exited the school building, and before he could respond, branched into a different topic. "Have you ever thought about braiding your hair? You keep it down for all your performances but you really should try another—"

"Tomorrow is Friday, I stay after late. I'm taking Saturday afternoon off," Yuri muttered, before ungracefully dropping his friend on the sidewalk as Nikolai pulled up in front of the school.

Yeah, maybe he could barely have any friends. But Irena and Andrew were nice, they always cheered him on while watching his performances while he was out of town, and they worked around his training regime. Grandpa was still stable, and the doctors said he should be doing okay for the next couple decades, at least.

Things could be a lot worse. Sometimes Yuri needed a bit of effort to remind himself of that. Sometimes he forgot. That was okay, he had people around him who would remind him. He was, after all, barely fifteen years old, even though he was dominating the junior figure skating world.

"That works for me," Andrew said, offering Yuri his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder and nodded, opening the car door and waving good bye before clambering into the seat. Irena excitedly jumped up, unfazed by her unceremonious drop, and returned his wave. Andrew offered him a small smile, before Nikolai pulled out of the parking lot.

…o…

Yuri's earliest memory was from when he was five years old. He was in the park with his father, a smile wide on his face. This was the smile that Yuri liked, the smile before the disasters. When he saw this smile, he was often hoisted onto strong shoulders, a bit taller than a stern-faced and soft-voiced woman. He reached out towards his Mama, and she obligingly pressed her hand against his, allowing a the corners of her lips to twitch upwards. Mama was always a bit stern, a bit closed-off. That wasn't a bad thing. Things only got worse when those traits manifested in Yuri. But at that time, five years old and sitting on his dad's shoulders, all Yuri knew was that he was on the top of the world.

Grandpa liked Mama enough, but it seemed as though she always had trouble with him. Yuri didn't mind that much. Even though Grandpa couldn't give him sweets and toys like other kids got, Yuri got something even better: his stories. Stories of long-forgotten princes, of glorious dragons, of animals who could speak just like humans, and sometimes, even the story about how thirty some years ago, a young man had fallen head over heels for a woman he met at the library. Mama didn't like those stories. That was okay, too. Grandpa made sure to whisper them. Whenever his face split into the wrinkly smile and he leaned in close, pressing a finger to his lips before quietly asking what story he should tell that day, Yuri learned the excitement that could come with a secret.

And secrets he did keep. Too many, at times, so he learned once he met Andrew and Irena. They had tripped over him in the hallway, sending them into a dogpile that took three minutes to detangle from. Andrew profusely apologized as Irena stood in the corner, cackling. This continued until the bell rang, and they found themselves sprinting across the school to class. It hadn't been really in Yuri's mind to befriend them, friendship was never on his mind; but somehow, the trio found themselves pulled together as the days went on. He found himself letting go around them, releasing the knots of tension and weight he had carried for so long. When he came to school without long sleeves for the first time, neither of them said anything about his blank wrist.

His rinkmates didn't say anything, either. Until one day, after his last Grand Prix Final in the Juniors, Victor had very seriously pulled him aside and asked him to make sure that his wrist was empty. He was bewildered by the request more than angered. It was uncommon, sure, for someone to be born without a name, but Victorwas the last person he expected to care about such a thing.

"I—what the fuck, old man? It's empty. You know that. Why the fuck do you even care?" He shook away his hand from the skater's grip, slowly backing away. He felt the tension building up in his body, and summoned it into a scowl. Stupid Victor. Stupid, stupid Victor. Of course he would care. It wasn't like _he_ understood, miles above the rest of them, with the whole world under his fingertips and his soulmate right—

"I found someone with your name."

He froze.

For a second, he almost entertained the thought. Would it be possible, for one soulmate to be born without a name? He hadn't heard of it before, but then again, if something like that were to happen, the couple would most likely not want to publicize it—but really, what were the chances? Was it…possible that maybe he wasn't like—

And then logic came crashing down, and he fixed his glare back into place, shoving his hands in his jacket. "There are a million Yuri's in the world, idiot. Even you know that, look at your own wrist."

Victor shook his head, "No, no. Yura, listen, I'm sure. I'm absolutely positive—"

Yuri held up his hand, and the older man fell silent.

"Listen, I don't care, okay? I don't care about soulmates right now. I'm here to _win._ I don't have time to get sidetracked by your fairy tales."

Victor pursed his lips, and by the next week, the entire team knew of Yuri's supposed soulmate. No one mentioned it. Only Victor knew his name, and he wouldn't speak it until months later, goading on the young teenager, only to have a door slammed on his face.

But Yuri didn't hate Victor. He couldn't, not after years spent idolizing him and four years spent skating next to him. It hadn't even taken all that time to figure out that Victor Nikiforov had no idea what the fuck he was doing.

It had been after his first competition under Yakov. He had failed, and he wasn't stupid enough to believe that Yakov wouldn't be disappointed. No matter what he did, he couldn't convince himself that maybe it wasn't his fault, that maybe it was okay to let his nerves get the better of him once or twice. And so he found himself holed up in a cleaning closet far away enough from the rink to close out the thundering applause and roar of the crowd, the only sound being a quiet sniffle as Yuri desperately wished that he had taken the family cat with him.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized when the closet door gently opened, and didn't notice the hand reaching from him until it was already gently placed on his shoulder.

He didn't have the heart to move it away.

Victor sat with him quietly, pressing small circles into his back, and not saying anything until Yuri was done. Even then, he simply walked him back to the rink and offered him a tissue before shifting back into the crowd. Yuri had never seen someone so inept yet skilled at handling someone crying.

These were the memories that he held in his heart. The memories that he reminded himself of, as he stepped onto the ice in a small town far far away from St. Petersburg, determined to bring Victor Nikiforov back to Russia.

…o…

There were several times Yuuri Katsuki wondered what he had done with his life, what events had brought him to where he was. If just one thing had changed, if he hadn't gone out to the beach that one night, if he hadn't been early to practice that one day and hadn't found Yuuko watching the old TV, if he hadn't gone out to the beach that one night, if he hadn't listened to Hiroko and bought the tickets to Detroit, if he hadn't refused to take his meds, if they had kept Vicchan on a leash.

Would he even be the same?

He pressed his hands to his face, slumped down against his desk. This wasn't going to work. There was no way he could get Victor to stay in Japan, no matter how hard he tried. He could tell that the older man was running out of patience, the smile becoming more and more strained as they went through the program time and time again. Yurio was progressing so much faster, had so much more potential. It would be better in Victor's interest for him to go back to Russia, to coach someone who could actually flourish under his tutelage.

Yuuri had seen his agape, after the waterfall. It had been so hard not to, when his skating was suddenly filled with so much emotion, a stark contrast to the stiff movements of before. It was as though something had softened all his rough edges, turning him into something else for those few minutes on the ice.

There was nothing about Yuuri that was eros, there was no part of him that he could suddenly pull out and brandish the way that Victor had.

The way that Victor had…

The way that…

He was running out of the inn before he even realized, feet leading him to the one place they had always gone, when his thoughts had been too jumbled, when he found no comfort in home, when he needed somewhere to escape. But this time was different. This time, he knew what he needed.

"Minako-sensei! I need your help!"

They danced into the night, until Minako sternly sent Yuuri home, insisting that he needed at least a few hours of rest before the competition the next morning. He stole those precious few hours in dreamless slumber, before being awoken by a certain poodle leaping onto to him and excitedly barking until Yuuri sat up.

They had decided to get ready at the Ice Castle, not wanting to interrupt the flow of the inn with their preparations. Victor excitedly bustled them out the door, almost forgetting to clip on Makkachin's leash. Yuuri had fearfully dragged the dog back and set the leash himself, shaking his head at Victor's sheepish smile.

Three hours later found him perched at rinkside, watching as Yuri Plisetsky's routine came to a close. The audience broke out into thunderous applause, and Yuuri joined in, trying to ignore the nerves climbing over him.

"Victor."

His coach started at his name, turning to Yuuri with a small smile on his face. "Yes?"

"Look at me. No one but me."

Victor had allowed them to choose from his old costumes so that they would have something in time for the informal competition, and Yuuri had eventually settled on one Victor had worn during his Juniors. It was black, lace cutting through along the side and a flare of red fabric on the side. The metallic accents glistening under the rink lights as he skated to the center of the ice, taking a deep breath before the music started.

The idea had come to him the previous night. For the past few weeks, he had been trying so hard to mimic what Victor was doing with the program, the story he saw in Victor's skating. But it was time to him accept that that would never happen. He had spent the last decade idolizing Victor, trying so hard to be like him. That's how he thought he could skate on the same level, how his inspiration to finally notice him. When Victor came to Japan after seeing Yuuri's video, he thought that it was a confirmation.

He was wrong.

This wasn't about being Victor's equal, about following his legacy. This was his own path, his own career, his own life. So long, he had just been trying to be like Victor. Now it was time to be like Yuuri.

As he skated, he thought of what he had decided. The story had the same basis now, but in the way it was completely different. He was no longer the playboy trying to woo the town sweetheart, but the woman who played with him, seducing him and running away time and time again.

He forgot about the audience, he forgot about what he was skating for, what this competition decided. All he knew in that moment was that he had to seduce the playboy, to skate with all his heart. This was where he belonged. This was where Yuuri Katsuki belonged. This was who he was. He had his own legacy.

It was time to be better, to rewrite the story.

His senses came back all of a sudden, breathing heavily with his arms crossed across his chest, in his ending pose. He swiveled to the side, squinting against the glaring lights to see Victor; but without his glasses, it was nearly impossible to distinguish the blurry shapes. He hurried to the exit, assuming that Victor would be there, but found himself engulfed in a hug before he could even stop on to solid ground.

"I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

…o…

 ***shows up three months late with this***

 **I hope the length of the chapter makes up for the wait—**

 **I was feeling really unmotivated to write actually, but once I came back on this year, I saw all your reviews and I felt a lot better…I hope that I can update more often now! I'm aiming for chapters that are 2500-3000 words now. I don't want to rush the fic along anymore. I hope that's okay!**

 **I would also like to note that I know like, literally nothing about skating and although I'm trying to learn terms and things, I'm still going to skim over their actual skating a bit.**

 **Also, here are some things that won't make it into the fic but I feel are very important for you to know:**

 **-Yuri found out that Victor disliked cats after Puma Tiger Scorpion followed him to the rink by accident once. There was a lot of screaming involved. On both ends.**

 **-Nikolai was the one who bought Yuri his tickets to Japan. He did this while imagining Yakov's reaction. It was great motivation.**

 **-when Yakov visited Nikolai to inform him of Yuri's departure (assuming he didn't know), all Nikolai did was burst out laughing for the next five minutes. He nearly had to go to the hospital.**


	16. Genesis

**Genesis**

…o…

There are sometimes instances in our lives that are unforgettable.

They are far and few between, and perhaps one may go through their entire life without capturing an indelible memory, but they exists in the wisps of time, playing a gentle susurrus along our continuums.

Yuri walked by himself. He walked to the train station. He walked to the airport. He walked to the gate. He walked in and out the airplane. He walked his dedulya's car. He walked into their home and up the stairs and into his room.

He was supposed to be feeling something. Maybe frustration? Maybe motivation? He didn't know. At the time he didn't feel anything. It was later that the maelstrom capitalized itself. In that moment, all he could think of was staring at the sunset outside of the Ice Castle, and wondering what the hell he was doing.

Unforgettable.

The sun soaked into his skin, it lit his being and lightened his soul. He would never say this out loud and he would never be able to articulate this into his thoughts, but in that moment, Yuri Plisetsky was a phoenix.

He burned into ashes.

Sleep overtook him and he avoided phone calls for two days, but eventually returned to his home rink. Yakov introduced him to Lilia Baranovskaya, who held more pride than the reflection in the mirror. Back to square one, she said. Yuri already knew that, though. He knew he was back to the beginning. He knew he had to change.

He needed to be reborn.

…o…

Yuuri created music with his body. He was dancing as the music, not with the music. It was the thing that had attracted Victor to him. He was able to take something that was not his own and create something that was. Victor couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the music was his from the beginning.

He only finds out the whole truth once he grabs Yuuri's phone away as he's talking to his ex-coach. Victor can't help but be a little disappointed that Yuuri wasn't honest with him, but that's okay. He'll be patient this time. For his soulmate.

The word brings Victor back to reality. He had almost forgotten about the script on his wrist, instead completely overwhelmed by everything else Yuuri meant to him. Perhaps this was what "soulmate" meant?

Victor and Yuuri dedicated themselves to training while an old friend from Detroit prepared a composition for Yuuri. They spent more and more time together, and sometimes Victor would find the words at the tip of his tongue. "Do you know? Do you know that I'm yours and you're mine?"

It was overwhelming sometimes. After a restless night of contemplating his situation he left the inn early. Whether it was in an effort to clear his mind or avoid Yuuri, he didn't know. It might have been both.

He looked down at Makkachin by his feet and around at the empty streets.

Victor was alone. He was always alone.

A dog couldn't fill the emptiness.

There was something torturous about existence. He was constantly surrounded and bombarded by human presence, but when he looked around none of them were for him. It was for a skater.

What was he without ice?

It wasn't always like that. At the birth of his passion and at the birth of his career, he was full of hope and enthusiasm. But as time went on, he became obsessed with his ideals and goals. Eventually he looked up to realize that there was nothing left of Victor Nikiforov but what was under his skates.

To tie your worth to an intangible idea, to an inanimate object, to an impossible achievement is a fool's choice, Victor decided.

Life turned humdrum. He swivelled through his prosaic life, faking involvement but enveloping inertia. He felt lost in equilibrium. His achievements became corollaries. Victor, in the end, felt utterly worthless.

Then he found Yuuri.

His life built on expectations run down by spontaneity and idiotic decisions. Foolish choices became his motto and everything was saturated in hope once more. Suddenly there were stones in the monotonous water, and the ripples created a mosaic called his new idea. It was intangible. The ice was still inanimate but the movements were full of life and song. Impossible achievements were his goal, and through blood, sweat, and tears, they would reach them.

He looked at the seagulls soaring over the Hasetsu beach and for a moment felt the chord of St. Petersburg ring through him again. He was brought back to his genesis. He would be reborn.

…o…

 **Hello! It's really been a while right? 11 months now, and it's almost the new year. We're even past the two year anniversary for this fic.**

 **Firstly, though, I'm sorry about the disappearance. I don't know if I properly mentioned it before, but my girlfriend and I broke up. This was in December of 2017. This fic was posted in December of 2016 as a one-month anniversary gift for her. Honestly I don't think it was completely because of those circumstances, because I just haven't been writing in general.**

 **I didn't think that people would still be interested in this story. But I looked at my email and noticed someone had even followed and favorited recently. Honestly, at the beginning I thought this fic was really cool because of all the attention. As updates become sparser so did the attention. Maybe it's not the most pure reason to write something, but when you lose encouragement I think you can lose motivation.**

 **However, I'd like to go ahead and finish this fic for those who have stuck around. It might take awhile and I might lose motivation, so please bear with me. I'll try my best, even if there aren't many responses!**

 **I'm sorry for the wait and that this chapter is short, but I hope we can have fun with this fic together again!**

 **Also, I identify as non-binary now. My pronouns are they/them.**

…o…


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